


Wounded Healer

by ooO_will_of_the_wisp_Ooo



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bisexuality, Blood and Violence, Childhood Memories, Childhood Trauma, Cognitive Dissonance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Falling In Love, Friendship/Love, Kid Tony Stark, M/M, Major Character Injury, Major Character Undeath, Mental Health Issues, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Quote: Cognitive Recalibration, Sexual Content, Sexual Experimentation, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Tension, Sexuality, Sexuality Crisis, Stephen Strange has ADHD, Stephen Strange has a secret crush on Tony Stark, Stephen Strange is a Good Bro, Supportive Avengers, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has Daddy Issues, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Has Nightmares, Tony Stark Has Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Tony Stark Has Self-Esteem Issues, Tony Stark Has Trust Issues, Tony Stark Is a Good Bro, Tony Stark has ADHD, Tony Stark has a secret crush on Stephen Strange, Triggers, Wounded Healer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-25 01:21:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 60,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20368291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ooO_will_of_the_wisp_Ooo/pseuds/ooO_will_of_the_wisp_Ooo
Summary: Dr. Stephen Strange wasn’t dead, exactly, when Thanos snapped his fingers. He couldn’t remember what had happened when he turned to dust, but had the feeling that something very important had occurred. He has now been returned to the present time thanks to The Avengers.Shortly after his return, Dr. Strange can remember what happened, but he can only remember segments of his lost memories while he dreams. The lines between dreams and reality seem to blur.Stephen finds out he is in a different Future than he was before, and he isn’t sure why. However, this Future has made it possible for new developments that are both amazing and concerning.Tony Stark is still struggling with flashbacks and night terrors a year after The Snap.  But he’s slowly getting better. He’s been married for several months to Pepper.  Things are getting back to a new normal, and some sort of routine.But Dr. Stephen Strange has some disconcerting news to share with The Avengers, and Tony’s not sure what to make of this new information. As it turns out, Stephen isn’t the only one having revealing dreams.  Will this mean Tony has to make some really hard choices?





	1. A Year After The Infinity Wars

**Author's Note:**

> UPDATES 1/28/2020:
> 
> 1.) Had originally put in an Epilogue.  
2.) Chapter 1 was ridiculously long, so I shortened it.  
3.) Originally the plot included Pepper, but, shall I say, things are kind of complicated enough already without adding her, a sudden blowup/divorce where she leaves for Europe and a whole crap load of weird shit (weirder than this story is already going to be without her). After a lot of thought and discussion with others, I agreed that if we're trying to be true to the MCU (except wherein this is an Endgame Fixit), Pepper is a woman of steely nerves and wouldn't have gone full Lucifer like I had portrayed her. I was just imagining, in my place in my life, that *I* would probably lose it on my fiancé/husband/boyfriend. Because I can pretend to be perfect and I CAN be understanding for a very long time, but even I have an end to my tolerance of BS.  
4.) To Be Announced as changes occur.
> 
> `````````````````````````````````````````````````````````  
If you want to follow me on Tumblr, my name is the same except, instead of underscores, I use dashes:
> 
> This is me on Tumblr:  
ooO-will-of-the-wisp-Ooo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony Stark is dealing with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), depression and anxiety. He remembers the horrors of the Infinity War and the aftermath. Will his therapist’s Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT) exercises help him find some manner of control? Because he’s desperate to feel like a human being again. Dr. Stephen Strange has called about something urgent, although Tony isn’t certain he could handle any visitors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized, wow, I kind of went overboard describing Tony’s angst and what he was doing to deal with it. So I waded through and weeded some out. I might keep some of it for later on in the story, if he has flashbacks or something. Because the chapter could be half as long, really.
> 
> Some research links:  
https://www.emdr.com/frequent-questions/

It was a cozy evening. The heat from the fireplace still radiated out into the room, even though the flames were low. They weren't the dancing yellow flame anymore, but had sunk languidly to the blue-white and pinks of embers. Tony lay on the couch watching TV. Pepper was sitting nearby on the armchair tapping away on her laptop and occasionally looking up at the evening news. He probably shouldn’t have been watching the news, but he sometimes went from avoiding it entirely to wanting to know what new fresh hell he could expect in the world.

The engineer caught a motion from Pepper out of the corner of his eye, and turned to see her gripping the arm rest and staring at him in shock and surprise. She held out a hand to him and he reached out to hold it, but his hand just brushed through her fingers. Or what was left of her fingers. She had a look of horror on her face as she started to disintegrate. Her skin was collapsing into ash and it was already up to her shoulder... His vision blurred with tears, and he felt paralyzed. He tried to scream or shout but no sound would come out of his throat. He felt like he couldn't breathe. He was powerless to do anything but watch as she fell apart, atom by atom. Molecules floated away like a swarm of dandelion seeds. Her arms and legs flake away, up her torso from her legs and up her neck after her shoulders. And then all that was left was her laptop and a pile of ashes. 

She had turned to dust. He still felt paralyzed. He _felt_ before he _saw_ a shadow looming over him. He could not see what it was that made the darkness cover him...  But he heard the unmistakable chasm-like voice... 

”I hope they remember you,” said the calm voice of the most deranged being in the universe. 

_Thanos_… 

Tony's eyes were impossibly wider and he wondered how his heart could pound so hard and so fast when he couldn't budge. The heat in the room seemed to retreat and the embers in the fireplace went dark.

Thanos stepped easily over the couch and pressed a massive knee onto Tony’s chest. Tony’s chest was being crushed! Thanos looked down at the immobile man slowly taking more and more of his weight. 

“What’s wrong, Tony Stark?” his expressionless purple face twisted into a snarling half-smile. “You’re not even going to put up a struggle? You’re just going to... give up?” He spoke softly to Tony as though he was affectionately speaking to a child. “Come, now. That’s not the Tony I expected!!”

_I can’t breathe!_

Then somehow Thanos morphed into someone with a red, white, and blue uniform. Tony was no longer on the couch, but on concrete. The man standing over him was Captain America, and the iconic shield was coming down again. Tony was already broken and bloody. It was so cold. The cold from the biting wind matched the steely blue eyes of Steve Rogers. The shield seemed to be aimed at Tony's neck. But the trajectory actually ended up smashing and disabling the reactor core in his suit. And Tony just lay there contemplating how everything had culminated to this moment. The man who called himself a Captain had left him in this bunker. He felt numbness beginning to take hold as he lay there helpless, his heart as shattered as the Iron Man suit. Only a someone with a heart of ice would do this. 

But... Here was Thanos again... 

_What is going_ ON _here?_

Tony was suddenly floating above himself, looking down at his body on the couch instead of the floor of the bunker. His body looked rigid and his chest didn't seem to be expanding. The only thing that was moving were Tony’s eyes, beneath his eyelids.

“Tsk-tsk-tsk,” said the enormous purple face. More and more weight came down on Tony’s ribs, but Tony on the couch wasn’t moving or opening his eyes. Thanos shook his head with disdain. “Soooo.... _disappointing_.”

_It’s not real! IT’S NOT REAL! NotRealNotRealNotReal!!!_ Tony hollered from somewhere near the ceiling. 

But the words only came out as thoughts inside his head, no matter how distorted his face might be from trying to wake the Tony on the couch. He tried throwing his desperation at his prone body, watching how nothing was happening. His floating consciousness felt impossibly light while his prone body on the couch was starting to sink into the couch like dead weight. 

_Wake up, Tony! WAKE UP!_

His body finally obeyed and Tony flailed awake, fully conscious seconds later, gasping for air as though he’d been under water far too long. He sat there catching his breath for a good several moments. He took off his robe and wiped the dripping sweat from his face. Looking down he saw his shirt and sweats were also soaked, and now hung uncomfortably cold against his skin. 

He sat there to catch his breath and pulled the cold wet fabric away from his chest. His head bowed and he felt a tear fall down his face. 

_And now here I am... Where is everyone else!?_

He’d remember that Dr. Strange had disappeared on Titan, along with T’Challa, Wanda, Bucky, Sam, Fury, and Clint’s wife and kids. A lot of Tony’s dearest friends. Half the inhabitants of Earth.Half the universe, as far as anyone knew.

_Peter Parker. The son I never had.And still don’t have. Because I lost him._

“I lost the kid,” he had tearfully confessed to Steve Rogers when he and Nebula had first arrived back home. That was one of the scenes thatwas tattooed onto his brain and was tied directly to his heartstrings. But that was only  one of the myriad of horrors for which he had been prescribed clonazepam and other medication. 

_I lost the kid._

_I lost the kid._

_I lost the kid._

Those words echoed in the hollow spaces of his heart since Peter had crumbled into nothing but air in his arms.

_You were in my arms. And then you weren’t anywhere at all... _

The engineer wasn't sure why he'd disclosed that to Steve that after he'd gotten off _The Benatar_. Tony felt he had just confessed his darkest sin to a traitor.

Anxiety yanked a noose around his heart, speeding it up to the point of dizziness and chest pain.  His eyes watered - or maybe he was crying again - but he couldn’t seem to breathe in enough oxygen. 

_Oh, God... If you exist... Help..._

He wasn’t so sure about God, but Tony was grateful for his doctors. He believed in them more than he believed in God. _I guess it's better than having _nothing_ to believe in._ At least _they_ helped him, listened to him, empathized. He could _see_ them, _hear_ them and occasionally shake hands. They didn’t ignore Tony, like God did. 

He had a psychiatrist, Dr. Robinson. She provided just the right amount to medication to control his depression and anxiety. She didn’t believe in drugging people to zombie levels. She had confirmed that the engineer also had a psychologist. She knew there was emperical evidence that combining medication _and_ behavioural therapy was more effective in treating mental health issues than either just meds or just therapy. So, he thanked his lucky stars that she hadn’t been one of the Disappeared after The Snap. 

His psychologist, Dr. Peebles, had helped him so much through what felt like a painfully infinite and distorted period of time that was, in reality, perhaps about eight months. Tony had already learned some techniques to calm himself previous to The Snap.But he could barely function those first several weeks after Titan. 

This was the deepest, darkest depression he had ever gone through since his parents had died. It would sit heavily on his chest.The small dark cloud that he barely used to notice became an all-consuming fog of despair. It was a cancerous creature that reached into his mind, clouded his thinking, and syphoned off his mental energy. 

Titan and the Mad Titan. Tony recalled when he had finally gotten rescued from the ship and made it back to Earth, he just felt he needed to catch up on the news.In case he could help someone. Or, as Dr. Peebles had suggested, maybe he just felt he deserved to punish himself by looking at the mess ‘he’ made. 

_But Peebles said the blame isn’t on me._ _It’s human nature to want to blame someone or something. It helps us make sense of tragedy. Problem is sometimes there’s nothing and nobody that can be blamed, or survival’s guilt clouds self-judgement. Thanos was to blame._ _But_ _I still feel like it should’ve been me..._

Now the racing thoughts came, building like a tidal wave. Scenes of The Aftermath came to him unbidden.

Cruise ships crashing and sinking; airplanes crashing; nuclear power plants overheating and exploding. Strings of car crashes. Debris everywhere. Lack of law enforcement, missing doctors, nurses, technicians, EMTs.  Desperate fighting over clean water and food.Waterborne illnesses. Flu. Looting. Raids. Factions forming. Fires. Structures toppled or collapsed. Massive sinkholes. Lack of people to dig through and remove the rubble afterward.  Not enough people to clear broken roads meant that many of the the injured wouldn’t make it. No electricity.  _How were you supposed to find loved ones or call for help if communications were down?_

Tony shuddered when he remembered crowds of people encircling his home, picketing, crying out desperately for help while he holed himself up in his sealed lab. He was at a loss. He wasn’t in the best physical or mental state, being quite weak from lack of food. Being bereft of Peter.

_What the hell did they think I could do for them? I didn’t even know what to do for myself!_ He felt the anger tightening his jaw and concentrated to avoid grinding his teeth.  _Everyone’s money is electronic and digital. There was no way of getting it. Even if I had wads of cash I could throw to people, what were they going to do with them? Light fires to keep warm? Use them to wipe their asses? _

_What good is money when there’s nothing to buy?_

He made the decision to move out one night to one of his hidden locations to escape the desperate, angry throngs. 

Now he was surrounded by nothing but beauty. 

_Too bad my _mind_ is a complete wreck and I can’t enjoy it..._

Pepper had been there with him as a friend - still was. They had tried having a romantic relationship. But they just could not meet in the middle on so many things. Still, she would always, somehow, win the argument that these transpiring events were not his fault, no matter how much he tried to take the blame.  She had insisted that she would repeat what he needed to hear and understand. "For forever, or longer if necessary." Pepper had no trouble looking him straight in his wet, brown eyes, “Please don’t feel bad that you’re vulnerable right now, Tony. Please let your friends take care of _you_ for a change.”

He still missed Pepper. But he understood. They were better friends apart than they were together. He tried to listen to his doctor and not turn on himself with anger that somehow he'd failed. Again. He tried to wrap his mind around the fact that he and Pep just weren't compatible. But the closer he got to her romantically, the more he seemed to hurt her. She was such an organized, strong person. And he wasn't. He was chaos in a bottle.

Tony felt grateful she was there with him, but the guilt was palpable when he imagined he must feel like dead weight. He was already enough of a burden before all of this happened. He didn’t want to bring her down with him. He would save his meltdowns for his psychologist or for when he wasn’t in front of his friends.

_It’s okay, I’m used to being on my own._

_I want to be a man, not a fucking crybaby. _He sighed and closed his eyes. He was starting to sound like his father, Howard. Yet the wave of anger was still directed at himself. _Can’t you just suck it up for once, Anthony Edward Stark??_

Tony grabbed his head trying to control the images and negative self-talk passing through his mind like a movie that wouldn’t stop playing.

_50,000 Shades of FUBAR__, _thought Tony.  He finally shut off the TV and sat up on the couch, rubbing his temples. _Everything_ _was Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition. And that damn wizard gave Thanos the Time Stone. That made absolutely no fucking sense. What the hell???_

He realized his rage at the sorcerer, one Dr. Stephen Strange, made his whole body tense. He willed himself to relax. 

_Wait! Waaaaait..._

Sometimes when he came out of this state of sleep paralysis, or if he was disassociating, he’d forget that everyone was back.

Tony paused and looked around the room. The date was on his cell phone. 

_Pepper isn’t gone... She’s on a thing somewhere... She’s gone on a business meeting. Because things are much more under control and there are smaller airplane services available now. And stuff. She called me this morning to check on me..._

_It’s okay, Tony. **It’s okay.** It’s fixed now. We got everyone back, thanks to the Avengers._ He gave his head a shake. _ Pepper is alive! She’s at a conference. The Avengers... We fixed this. Thanos doesn’t know... And Stephen, you're off the hook. You told me that your actions were the only way. You wouldn't have given the stone to Thanos just to save me._

Tony suddenly found Thanos’s face again, looming menacingly in his thoughts. He tried to imagine the major force of his nightmares as ridiculous and weak, so he could more easily handle thinking about it.

_When Big Bad Barney the Dinosaur showed up... Thanos, the universe’s favourite psychopath... He just snapped his fingers..._ Tony made a grimace and chewed on his bottom lip, snapping his own fingers. _Just snapped his damned fingers and that’s what snapped the neck of the entire fucking universe. Some serious shit hit some serious fans,_ thought Tony, his red eyes welling up all over again.

Despite feeling the tiniest bit silly, he looked around apprehensively to make sure no one was nearby.  “Fuckin’ dust or somethin’,” he muttered just in case someone was listening, and wiped his eyes.

F.R.I.D.A.Y. was still offline, except for a few computers on the main floor and downstairs in the basement-family room. It was the middle of the night. He was in his private home, not at the old Compound. _Who the hell is gonna see me right now???_

The engineer closed his eyes and began breathing slowly in, counting to six...

The Snap. Everyone fading away, dissolving.  Peter falling away into nothing in his arms.  He and Nebula nearly dying in that spaceship.  Chaos and death. Nightmares and Flashbacks.  Moving to the Cabin.  Scott Lang coming back from the Quantum Realm.  The Time Heist. Natasha sacrificed herself... They had all the Infinity Stones. Thanos ripped the Mind Stone straight out of Vision.

_**That** was the past._

He paused, holding his breath for a fraction of a second. He exhaled slowly and a few seconds longer than the inhale... That was the trick. You had to breathe out more than you breathe in.

Bruce snapping his fingers.  The Lost were Returned.  Chaos and life! Peter was back!  Strange was back! Fury, T’Challa, Shuri, Wanda, Sam, Quill, and every single being or creature that had disappeared  were back! 

_And_ _I’m a paranoid lunatic in treatment for PTSD._

**_This_** is the present.

He repeated the counting and the breathing exercises several times, concentrating on the numbers, the feeling of his slower breathing, and how his heart beat calmed to a more manageable rhythm. 

He remembered his therapist, Dr. Peebles, explaining PTSD. 

“In the case of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, the thoughts sometimes resurface when there’s a trigger - like the images when you watch the news on TV, or maybe a loud sound, or something moving quickly out of the corner of your eye,” Dr. Peebles had explained. “What you might like to start with is managing the onslaught of images and feelings. I can teach you how. Visualization is usually the most effective method.”

He had suggested Tony think of an analogy or a label to symbolize his flashbacks. “Secondly, you would need the same to safely enclose or temporarily leave these troubling thoughts in a safe place to deal with at another time, when you’re ready.”

Dr. Peebles gave an example. “Worms could symbolize the bad thoughts, and instead of ‘opening a can of worms,’ it could be a jar. Because you can’t reseal worms back into an open can. But you _can_ put the lid back on a jar.”

“Right, because opening a _can_ of worms is foolish,” Tony had said with bright sarcasm. “Because they sell them in _jars_ now.”

Tony had understood the importance of the visualization, and desperately wanted to sleep and feel human again. At first the whole picturing-something-in-his-head thing seemed childish and stupid, but he gave himself over to it. There didn’t seem to be any other choice.

He didn’t have to tell his therapist what was going on during visualization. Dr. Peebles just waited for Tony to open his eyes and acknowledge when the engineer was ready for the therapy session.

Tony decided to imagine that he had a black and white border collie with one blue eye and one brown eye; his traumatic thoughts were troublesome, black sheep. Then he envisioned a giant stone paddock, as imposing as The Great Wall Of China, to keep them contained. His dog would be able to wrangle the sheep and bring out one at a time so he could talk to his therapist one memory at a time. And then the dog would herd them back into Flock-atraz. And that prison was surrounded by a moat of liquid lava. That is what encircled those smothering dark dreams that took away his breath, and that would keep them from escaping from his subconscious and into his waking world!

_Mostly..._

This treatment Tony had agreed on was called EMDR, or Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing. The idea is that when people have REM sleep, it can help them process trauma. When the sleep stage is at Rapid Eye Movement, the mind accesses the traumatic memory network, information about what happened during the trauma is processed, and allows a connection between the traumatic memory and more adaptive memories or information.  


In the case of EMDR, the patient is awake, but the eyes are looking at an object going back and forth, or laterally, because it mimics REM.   


If people can access the parts of their minds that are active during deep sleep just by _mimicking_ REM, and there is a therapist there to help guide the patient on how to process the trauma, this has shown to be effective in those suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

Well, Tony had less and less flashbacks or mental trauma randomly showing up during the night or day than when he  used too.So this exercise to strengthen his mental acuity and lessen his emotional torture must’ve been working.

_A magic dog and haunted sheep. _ He smiled to himself.

“This is just amazing. I can’t believe it’s working,” Tony had said to his therapist.

“That’s great to hear Tony! You are making progress! I  told you that we all have amazingly neuroplasticity. Humans can bend or change pathways in the brain,” his psychologist reminded the engineer, smiling with excitement. “When you do these visualization exercises, you’re creating new neural pathways. With habit, they will eventually become the  _new_ normal  neural pathways for your thought processes.”

_ The New Normal._ Tony looked forward to not being stuck in his own private Hell.

Tony struggled to bring his mind back to the living. He stretched and walked slowly around his “cabin.” 

It was called “The Cabin” because of its location. It was nestled on the sunny side of a gentle valley, by a river . Trees. Grass. Sky. 

The bleary-eyed engineer went to the kitchen for some water. His eye caught the framed photo of himself and Peter. He picked up the picture wherein he and Peter had given each other bunny ears and were holding up Peter’s certificate upside down. He placed the photo back on the shelf and then opened the sliding window to the outdoors.

Tonight’s showcase featured a beautiful, clear midnight sky with just a tiny sliver of moon. He could see the glaze of the Milky Way amongst the stars. He tried to shove out the thought that Titan was up there somewhere. And Thanos...

Still struggling to ground himself, Tony again brought his focus out of the past by remembering the points in time that brought him into the present. He wiped the salty wetness from his cheeks.

He and Nebula had been rescued on their nearly depleted ship, the Benatar.No fuel, no food, no water, and almost no air. It was looking hopeless. Except for the paper-football games.

But somehow, by some miracle, they were found. By an amazing Space Stone-enhanced lady, no less, whose named turned out to be Captain Marvel. 

Carol Danvers knew of Thanos and some of his movements simply speaking to everyone she met on all her travels. She visited and administered to many planets, trying her best to help transition the many peoples back to something close to normalcy and order after the Snap. And she had turned up on Earth because Fury had just managed to alert her from his ancient pager, apparently just before he was “dusted.”

After Scott came back about a year after The Snap, he was excited to discover that time was much slower in the Quantum Realm. That could mean there was a chance to get everyone back! He, Nat, and Steve had come to see him. At first... 

_No! _ _Why would I want to even try? Why would I want to jinx what I have?_

He hadn’t even thought it would be possible... 

But then he had figured out it _was_ possible. And, yes, they _had_ built the time machine... Or the Time-Heist Machine. Teams had been assigned. And they got ahold of all the stones from the past and made a gauntlet for them. 

Unfortunately Nat gave up her life for the Soul Stone. She sacrificed herself for the greater good. Or at least that was what Tony kept telling himself. Vision, on the other hand, had literally had his life yanked from him.

After Iron Man and Captain America had a bit of a hiccup getting the stones, which they resolved, the Avengers had all returned to the present day. Except for Natasha. 

Nebula, Clinton, and Bruce took Nat’s loss the worst, but the entire team was shaken up and felt the hole in their lives where Nat used to be. Vision had been torn from Wanda. He was relatively new to the team, but the loss was still very much on people’s minds. To honour their fallen team mates, to make sure their deaths were not in vain, the Avengers vowed to execute the plan to bring people back. 

Tony had fashioned the gauntlet himself. Banner had put it on and had wished everybody was back, safe, on their relative planets. He sacrificed his arm in doing so, but he didn’t mind.

“I did it to get bring back all those who were lost. And...” Bruce had explained in his soft voice. He paused. “I did it for Natasha. It’s a small sacrifice to make considering the outcome. It’s a such a _small_ sacrifice when compared to some...”

_Just the ones who had been disintegrated when Thanos snapped his giant, stupidly big genocidal fingers came back: no Natasha, no Vision._

None returned that had actually _died_.

After the Return of the Lost, everything was chaos again for a while, but at least it was mostly a happy and tears-of-joy kind of mess. It was another miracle on top of other miracles on top of many tragedies. There was some stress because there was suddenly an explosion of the population. The World was slowly slowly starting to pick up speed again. Even though, for some, it still felt like Time had ground to a hault.

_Somehow we’ll make it work... We’re making it work._

He’d visited with Peter Parker: a wet-eyed, happy, and huggy reuinion. He’d seen most of the Avengers and Fury. He’d made a few appearances on TV to see if morale could be boosted. He was with his Pepper, so _his_ morale was boosted.

Dr. Strange had come back, too. In fact, he had called Tony a few weeks ago to talk. They’d visited with each other already, about a month after The Return. They’d gone out for a coffee.

More recently, however, Tony had called Stephen to hang out somewhere. Stephen’s voice sounded tense and his manner distracted. He had requested a visit, saying it was urgent.

That visit was scheduled for tomorrow. Tony wasn’t sure he was relaxed enough or in the right frame of mind for a visit. He still had some residual anger to deal with but in the end, he had an entire year to think about things. And he remembered what the sorcerer had told him after giving up the Time Stone to Thanos.

”Tony... There was no other way...”

Tony wanted so desperately to fall asleep. He had been prescribed clonazepam, so he decided to break off a small piece and wandered off to bed.  _I still miss you, Pepper__,_ he thought to himself as he drew a pillow toward his body and faced toward where she used to sleep.

He imagined her warm skin and soft breathing and it lulled him gently into a dreamless to sleep.


	2. The Strange Facts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dr. Stephen Strange breaks it to Tony that some important events after The Snap either happened much earlier, or with different outcomes. Somehow reality has been altered. He wasn’t even aware of this until he started having dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UPDATE JAN 31, 2020:  
1.) Originally this chapter included Pepper married/living with Tony when Dr. Strange comes for a visit. As mentioned in the notes in Chapter 1, I decided to remove Pepper as an important character. I feel badly that I have to reduce her to a 2 Dimensional character like they kind of did in the movies, but this story is already quite complicated. I may one day do a fic with HER as the main character/POV.
> 
> 2.) Just a few other minor changes. It was odd to have to take out some of the things Pepper would have said, or change it so that Tony was saying it instead. Because it was a whole different dynamic. I left out a few chunks that way.

Tony had seen the sparks of Stephen’s portal opening through the living room windows.

When Tony opened the door, the sorcerer had looked troubled: a bit ashen even.Tony asked him why he seemed so upset. 

The Supreme Sorcerer’s eyes actually teared up, and Tony had felt compelled to hug the man.

“Doc, what is  _wrong_?” asked Tony, feeling bad for the guy who was standing at the front door. “You look like Wile E. Coyote just when he realizes a giant boulder is gonna land on his head.”

Levi perked up as if reviving from a stupor. The sentient cloak straightened out the drooping collar. 

“Oh, well, that looks a _little_ better,” said Tony, momentarily startled seeing as he always forgot about the cloak being sentient. “Sorry Levi, I guess you’re feeling a bit down, too, huh?”

In response, the collar sagged again with sadness.

Stephen did not react to the Roadrunner reference, or to Tony flinching when Levi had moved autonomously. The former surgeon awkwardly patted Tony on the shoulder as he was led - practically dragged - to the couch to sit down.

“May I have a drink of water, please?” he had asked Tony. Tony studied Dr. Strange’s face. _I know that face_, thought Tony. _That’s what I look like after crying or not sleeping. And he sounds congested, too. Hope he didn’t have snot bubbles. Snot bubbles are from gut-wrenching, full-on, high pressure, waterfall_ _crying..._

“You sure you don’t want something stronger?” Tony had asked. “Or maybe some tea?” He placed a box of Kleenex closer to where Dr. Strange was seated.

“No, just water, thank you,” said Dr. Strange. He grabbed a Kleenex and blew. “Whew, excuse me. I’ve been drinking tea a lot today, even herbal tea. But I’m still feeling a bit faint. And maybe a little nauseated.”

Tony brought the former surgeon some cold bottled water from the fridge and grabbed him some crackers from the cabinet.

“I’m sorry to pester you,” the sorcerer apologized. “I’ve had the... Oddest revelations lately. They’ve been coming through in my dreams. And then it seemed - I couldn’t help myself. I felt compelled to do some research...”

“Research _dreams_?” Tony asked, offering the plate of crackers. He knew his magical co-worker would have to have a very compelling reason to do so. “These must’ve been some dreams!”

Stephen raised his eyebrows and nodded. “To say the least!” He grabbed a cracker and nibbled tentatively on a corner of it.

Tony was standing across from Dr. Strange. One of the engineer's eyebrows rose when Stephen tipped the bottle of water straight up, gulping the entire contents down.

“Shooooould I get you another bottle?” Tony had asked with concern. _Drymouth? Hangover? Or __maybe anxiety,_ thought Tony. 

The frazzled-looking doctor breathed in, finally, after the last drop. “Yes, please,” he nodded. “If you could.”

Tony called from the kitchen, “I think maybe a Gatorade would be better.” He didn’t wait for an answer and went to grab one for the sorcerer.He handed the Dr. Strange the bottle. “And there’s no need to apologize for asking for something you need.”

The former surgeon looked somewhat sheepish and was about to say something, likely in protest, but he just clamped his mouth closed and nodded his head in thanks. This time Dr. Strange just sipped from the drink. He looked up from his position on the couch, and realized Tony was still hovering, standing there looking at him with concern. 

“Thank you for your concern. I appreciate the drink.But _you_ may need to sit down for this,” he motioned to Tony to have a seat across from him on the other couch.The sorcerer could only hope the heat of embarrassment he felt creeping up his neck and into his cheeks wasn’t very visible. He wasn’t used to all this attention on himself. Especially not _help._

“Okay, but, well, you’re making _me_ nervous, Doctor,” said Tony. “I’m worried about _you_, and I’m starting to get amped up about whatever it is you’re going to, ya know, get around to finally saying.”

“My apologies, Mr. Stark,” he said curtly. He closed his eyes for a few seconds and took a deep breath after which he exhaled slowly. He seemed somewhat calmer. “I just need to let you know some very important details regarding the most recent events.” He fidgeted nervously with the clasps of his soft red cape. Levi gave him a little squeeze of comfort. Dr. Strange was grateful for the cloak seemed to help ground him.

“You have my full attention, my friend,” answered Tony. He attentively leaned forward.

“Well... I’m not quite certain how to explain this, but first of all...” He sighed as he looked at Tony, his eyes not sure where to rest their gaze. The former surgeon almost began to speak, but then Tony wasn't sure if the sorcerer was looking at the ceiling or rolling his eyes. Dr. Strange then turned to face the engineer directly again. Then he shook his head. “There’s just no way of making this sound like I'm talking about the weather. It’s about Thanos. We have about four years left before Thanos comes back. Maybe less than that.”

“What?! Thanos is coming _back_!?!” Tony sat bolt upright. "You're kidding me, right?"

Dr. Strange gave him a grave look.

“How can you be sure!?” the fidgety engineer nearly squeaked.

“Well... How I know... It’s because... Sorry, I need to back up,” said the sorcerer, closing his eyes to help him concentrate. Tony could see Stephen was trying to keep it together. “The fact that Thanos will come is ‘inevitable,’ as he would say. But here’s the thing.” He paused to take a couple of gulps of the Gatorade. He grabbed another cracker and nibbled. He then cleared his throat and took a deep breath before continuing. He spoke as if reading from a list. “1.) The, uh, time when Scott Lang came back after a year trapped in the quantum realm... 2.) The time and the order in which your teams retrieved the Infinity Stones... 3.) The date Banner brought everyone back after the Avengers collected the stones...”

Tony nodded, trying to get Dr. Strange to move on from the dramatic pause to the point he was leading up to.

“None of those things should have happened,” he said. “Yet.”

Tony frowned. “Please explain.”

Dr. Strange put up a hand to gesture that he needed a moment, and swallowed another gulp of Gatorade and continued. “Those events have come about four years too early.”

“Too early for what!?” asked Tony.

“This is the year 2019,” said Dr. Strange. “Obviously. What I am trying to say is this. All these events leading up to and including The Return Of The Lost when Bruce snapped his fingers happened  **_this_** year, but they _should_ have transpired in... Or perhaps it ‘s more grammatically correct to say these events _should_ _be_ happening in **_2023... NOT_** in 2019...”

Tony’s mouth hung open for a moment. The sorcerer didn’t seem to notice.

“Actually... It’s precisely  _because_ all these things occurred four years earlier than they were supposed to,” muttered the red cloaked sorcerer. “That is why we _have_ four years to prepare ourselves.” Tony observed that his visitor wasn’t so much explaining things, but thinking out loud. And sounding a tiny bit like he was going to become hysterical soon. “There have also been a change of events because the teams were arranged differently than they were in the 2023 reality. Bruce brought all the ‘Snap’ victims back early because of two minor, barely noticeable differences to our original timeline.”

“And those were -?” prodded Tony.

“First: _a rat_.”

Stephen saw the most puzzled expressions cross over Tony's face. Especially noticable was the height of the eyebrows.

“Right now the specific rat that accidentally stepped on the buttons in the van that brought Scott Lang back from the Quantum Realm hasn’t been born yet..._Because originally Lang’s return was __**five** __years after the Infinity War_, not just  one year. Or, I guess I should say Lang’s return is... was.... Is _supposed_ to occur in 2023, not this year, in 2019.”

“So... a... different rat stepped on the buttons?” Tony asked, brows furrowed.

“Exactly. The rat that hit those buttons earlier in 2019 is the  _father_ of the rat that is _**supposed**_ to do it in 2023.”

Stephen was very serious watching the different emotions flashing across the engineer’s face. “I _know_! The face _you’re_ making? _My_ face was also like that when I found out.”

Tony couldn't do much but try to keep his jaw from swinging on its hinges.

“OK. Get ready for the ride!” sighed Stephen. Again he took in a big breath and let it out slowly. “Let us begin... In 2023, _Nebula_ and Rhodey went to 2014 to the planet _Morag_ to retrieve the Power Stone. Because of that, the memory files in 2023 Nebula inadvertently combined with the memory files of 2014 Nebula. Then unbeknownst to the team, 2014 Nebula came back with your group in 2023 and then went to the past to retrieve her father, Thanos, to bring him to 2023, and there was a final battle. Which happened four years from now. Or which will happen. Or should happen... Or something.”

“Okay, so you're saying that is what should be happening. Or should happen," Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. "However, in 2019, _Rocket_ and Rhodey went to the planet _Morag_ to take the Power Stone. So everything went as planned. No attack from Thanos.“

"Correct," said the former surgeon, nodding emphatically.

“Oh my God!” Tony moaned. “This is getting hard to follow. I feel a headache coming on.” 

"I still have one," muttered Stephen.

”Wait, so in this year of our Lord, 2019, the _current_ Thanos is still unaware of any plot because our 2019 _Nebula_ went to _Vormir_ with _Natasha_,” postulated Tony. “And therefore no files or knowledge of a plot has accidentally been discovered - as of yet.”

“Exactly!” Dr. Strange said pointing at Tony. “And Tony, yourself & Scott grabbed the Space Stone from the Tesseract, while Steve was in charge of stealing the Mind Stone, in the same time period and location in New York in 2012. Bruce went back with them in the same year, but to the New York Sanctum on Bleecker Street, to see about retrieving the Time Stone. No changes there. The outcome of 2019 and 2023 were identical.

_“_This year_,_ Quill and Thor had gone to Asgard to extract the Reality Stone. No problems there," said Tony.

“Correct,” said Dr. Strange. “Same outcome as the 2023 team of _Rocket_ and Thor.”

_“Nebula_ and Nat were sent to retrieve the Soul Stone on Vormir,” said Tony. “That’s where we lost our Natasha. Did she survive in the 2023 version of this heist??” 

“I’m sorry to say, the same outcome occurred when _Clint Barton_ and Natasha Romanoff went to Vormir in 2023. They loved each other as best friends, but Natasha chose to be the sacrifice because Clint had a family. Nat had wanted to give back to the only family she had: The Avengers.”

“Our Nat,” sighed Tony, shaking her head. “I miss her. She always had this quiet grace about her. I‘ll always wonder how someone can be so vulnerable, and yet _so_ strong...”

A moment of silence went by out of respect for the beautiful soul of the assassin.

Dr. Strange paused and looked over at Tony.  “Any questions?” 

“No, but I call for a commercial break,” replied Tony.

There was a flurry of activity while Tony ran to the fridge to grab a bottle of water for himself. He practically threw the bottle on his couch, and continued running past Dr. Strange, apologizing profusely.

Dr. Strange heard a door slam and then a fairly long stream of urine and a relieved groan. Then the toilet flused and Tony bolted back into the living room, vaulting over the back of the couch and once again attentive and waiting for Dr. Strange.

“If there are no more questions, I have one more bomb to drop,” said Stephen.

“Hang on there, Glinda,” said Tony with his hand up. “So we’ve got everyone back. We  were trying to come up with a plan to get rid of Thanos once and for all. But it appears he’s retired somewhere far far out there in the universe and he’s destroyed the stones after The Snap.We returned the alternate stones to their original times to prevent branches in the original timeline... Sooo... Why do we still have to fight Thanos?? Why would he attack us again if we left him alone and injured? And how the hell did this weird time anomaly still occur despite our precautions???”

“Ah, yes. I’ll explain,”  Dr. Strange blinked. “That’s where these strange dreams I’ve been having come in...”

Tony frowned. "Wait. Are these dreams or some kind of premonition you're having?"

”Before I continue explaining, there is something important... ” The sorcerer looked down and intertwined his scarred fingers together . His voice cracked and his eyes started to gather tears on his bottom lid, the only thing stopping them from falling were his thick eyelashes. “I-I’m sorry, I can’t say specifically what _will_ happen, or it _won’t_ happen... But I have to tell you _something_!!! I owe you that much, Tony.”

”Stephen, you don’t owe me a damn thing!” Tony’s voice was full of compassion. He put a hand on Dr. Strange’s shoulder. “But okay. Tell me.”

The comforting hand seemed to break the dam, and the tears fell down Stephen’s face. His breath caught and he gave himself a few seconds to recover. “Tony, you are going to figure... _Prominently_... In the final battle with Thanos. I’m almost on the verge of breaking some laws telling you _that_, but it’s all I can safely disclose.”

Tony froze for a moment, then nodded slowly. “You know, Merlin? That is pretty much what I suspected all along.”

Strange looked up sharply at Tony.

”Remember, Magic Man? I _get_ the _reason_ I didn’t die on Titan,” said Tony. His eyes teared up as well. "I get, you Stephen."

The sorcerer had blinked when he heard Tony call him Stephen. "Why, do you suppose?" asked the sorcerer softly. 

“It's okay, Stephen," Tony shrugged. "I think I've used up all my nine lives. And I'm not even a cat. For some reason, despite all I've already been through in my complicated life, we're having this conversation. I'm pretty sure I have a purpose. A final purpose."

”Tony,” sighed Dr. Strange. “I... I wish..."

"Yeah, buddy," said Tony. "Me, too."

Tony saw that Dr. Strange's face was getting all tensed up again, like the sorcerer would start crying again. 

“It's _okay_, Stephen. I've had over a year to think about it. It's like that Star Trek episode where a woman was saved from a getting hit by a car instead of dying like in the original timeline,” began Tony. “And, because she lived, she was such an influencial peace activist that she delayed the United States from fighting in World War II, and then Hitler won... Because if she _had_ died, like she was ‘supposed to,’ the USA would have joined in the war more quickly and then, as in our current timeline, Hitler would not win."

Dr. Strange's straight posture collapsed.

"I'm Edith Keeler," said Tony, voice cracking a little as he stood up. "And you're Captain Kirk. You have to let me get hit by the car."

Stephen smacked himself on the forehead and dragged his hand down his face. “Please understand... I do have a conscience and much of the time it doesn’t let me sleep. But there are reasons we mere mortals have limits. We only have what the Universe dangles in front of us for a fleeting moment..." Tony was startled when the sorcerer suddenly stood up and grabbed him by his forearms. "And also because the Universe holds _all_ life precious, including Earth... There are all the other _uncountable_ numbers of beings and planets and life forces besides ourselves... No matter what happens... When the inevitable comes to pass, _we_, no matter the number of our forces and allies, are so, so much smaller than the entire universe...”

Stephen stiffened as Tony embraced him. "Hey, Awesome Facial Hair Bro," said the engineer, gruffly. "It's gonna be okay."

"Are... Are _you_ comforting _me_???" huffed Stephen. He hugged Tony back.

Tony pulled away, giving a friendly smack on Dr. Strange's back that made the sorcerer wince a little. "Hey we _all_ need some comfort. Doesn't matter _who_ we are," said Tony airily. "Wanna order a pizza?"

Stephen stood there, incredulous.

"Sure! Right? And you can tell me what you've been up to for the last few months," said the good-natured man as he went to the kitchen to grab his cell phone. 


	3. When You’re Strange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce Banner just snapped his fingers with Tony’s very own home-made Gauntlet...
> 
> Stephen has to make sure he’s really back and not in some kind of dream...
> 
> In the days following The Return, Dr. Strange and his fellow sorcerers at Kamar-Taj and the New York Sanctum throw themselves into helping with organizing, food and water, cleanup, and other humanitarian tasks. They’re happy to extend a hand to non-magical folk in those locations, as well.
> 
> There were a lot of odd “accidents” with half-uttered spells and Masters disappearing when Thanos snapped his fingers in 2018.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I split this chapter because it was sooooo long! lol
> 
> UPDATE JAN 31, 2020:  
Took a bunch of distracting, unneeded "extras" like some of the creatures I made up. I'll have to find another way to use the information about who and how The Cloak of Levitation was created.
> 
> For reasons I can't explain yet, you'll see why I left in the part about the Cheshire cat... :D
> 
> Now this chapter is a lot shorter... But it leads nicely into the next chapter! :D
> 
> Some references:  
https://www.tor.com/2018/05/04/doctor-strange-spent-a-year-fighting-the-infinity-war-and-no-one-noticed/  
https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/theosophy  
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hippocratic_Oath

It was just the moment after Bruce Banner had snapped his fingers. All those who had become dust had rematerialized safe and sound. The Lost had become The Returned.

Dr. Strange suddenly felt more... substantial.

His eyelids fluttered open under the sunlight shining through his shutters. 

He squinted and turned to avoid the direct beam of light shining in his face... And then sat up rather abruptly, to find himself in his bed. Sort of. He was in his former room in Kamar-Taj where he had stayed while in training for his sorcery.

_Why am I not in New York???_

Then the memory of everything on Titan crashed back into his awareness.

”Holy shit!”

He flipped onto his knees and looked down on his body, hands patting down his chest and torso. “I’m solid!”

He stood up unsteadily on the mattress.

“HOLY SHIT!!!”

He was back! He could hear his own voice!

Last thing he remembered was being thrown onto concrete and metal. Thanos had picked him up and thrown him easily, like a child throws a stuffed toy. He remembered his head hitting some kind of smooth concrete and could’ve sworn he’d felt his skull bounce a bit off the hard surface. And then darkness for a while...

He sprang out of bed and there was Levi, still on his shoulders. “Levi! I’m back!!!! YOU’RE back!!! On _my_ back! We're BACK!!”

Levi freed himself for a moment from Stephen’s shoulders. The cloak made a buoyant _swish_ from Stephen’s back to facing the sorcerer, and shook like a dog just waking up. Then the cloak spun around a few times with excitement, flaring outward in an aerial pirouette, then ended the flourish by wrapping the ends of the lengthy red fabric around Stephen’s back and giving the former neurosurgeon an affectionate squeeze.

”Thank you, Levi! It’s good to see and feel you again!” laughed Stephen, delightedly. “I’m glad to see and feel _me_ again, too!” 

Levi gave an affectionate pat on Stephen’s cheek with a corner of the cloak's dramatic collar, twirled around  and snuggled happily back onto Stephen’s shoulders.

The sorcerer checked himself in the big wardrobe mirror. _Huh. No cuts or contusions. _The cut on his forehead and cheek one were no longer evident. He could’ve sworn he had a couple of cracked ribs, but when he looked in the mirror holding up his tunic, he neither felt or saw any indication as such. 

_No broken skin_ _, no broken bones, nothing. And no concussion. I could’ve _sworn_ I had a concussion._

Dr. Strange had been deposited safe and sound at Kamar-Taj, in Kathmandu!

He ran outside. There were some novices in various groups doing exercises who stopped what they were doing to stare at Stephen. The Sorcerer Supreme noticed there were no Masters training, but instead there were, he supposed, other advanced novices supervising and leading activities. He heard some audible gasps amid the groups and some sounds behind him and realized there were more people emerging from buildings much like he had. There was suddenly happy chaos as people were squealing, laughing, hugging and jumping up and down. Some members of the training groups were running past Stephen. 

Suddenly Stephen felt transparent and hollow. It warmed his heart to see such affection and love in the world, but it really hurt that apparently he was not part of it. Nobody ran up to _him_ for hugs.

”Stephen Strange!! Glad to see our Sorcerer Supreme has come back!” called out a cheerful voice.

”Master Healer Tai!” Stephen smiled, relieved and happy _someone_ finally recognized him and welcomed him. “It’s good to be back!”

”I know someone who will be happy to see _you_!” said Master Tai, smiling back and giving Stephen a warm embrace. “He’s in temporary position of Acting Sorcerer Supreme in Greenwich, New York! He would probably be even happier if you showed up with a tuna melt!” 

Stephen’s grin widened when Master Tai winked.

”Before you go, can I give this note to you?” requested the older man. “If you could give this to Wong? You can read it as well, if you like. I was just about to bring it to him myself when suddenly my hands are full _here_!”

”Thank you! I’d be happy to deliver this to Wong for you!” Stephen bowed with a little _Namaste_ flourish and created a portal. _Things are probably just as disorderly in New York,_ he thought to himself.

Fortunately when Stephen portalled to the New York Sanctum, it didn't appear to be too much of a mess. Wong had greeted him and was trying his best not to sound genuinely happy that Stephen had returned. There were a few other sorcerers who had Returned after vanishing, as well, so Wong was having a very difficult time keeping his customarily inscrutable mask from slipping.

“Well,there’s no point in trying to to get around it,” Wong said as Stephen approached. The Asian fellow sounded disappointed in himself. He looked down at his feet and sighed despondently. “I’m glad you’re back, Stephen Strange.”

“I appreciate the effort with which you tried to hide your feelings,” said the Sorcerer Supreme as deadpan as possible. “It’s the thought that counts.”

Wong and Stephen stared stoically at each other for a few more seconds. Wong badly concealed a squeaky snort. This set them both off laughing and they patted each other on the back.

They finally finished laughing, and cleared their throats. Wong wiped his brow.Stephen straightened his tunic.

“Missed your unsmiling face, Wong,” said Stephen, sporting a lopsided grin. 

“And I missed not smiling at you, Stephen,” retorted Wong. He blew his nose and wiped his wet eyes.

”Allergies?” asked Dr. Strange pointedly.

“Yeah! Guess I’m allergic to _you_!” he replied. “My eyes didn’t start watering until _you_ showed up.”

”I’m sorry to hear that,” Stephen said attempting a sympathetic tone.... But the laugh lines around his sparkling eyes and the one up-tipped corner of his mouth twitching indicated he was amused - and a little touched.

“Okay, I guess I have to put my serious face back on,” continued Stephen’s friend and mentor. “Because a lot has happened while you were on vacation for a year. Walk with me, Stephen.”

“Vaca- ? _Seriously!?” _ Stephen smirked and walked alongside his friend. He shook his head.“Hah!”

As they walked outside of the Sanctum Sanctorum, they continued their discussion. They walked up to a coffee shop and Wong bought tea for the two of them. They sat out in the sun and sipped their tea. 

” Well. Let’s hear it, Wong. What had happened in the year of the Snap?” asked Dr. Strange, with trepidation. “Lay it all on me.”

“Do you want the short version or the long version?” asked Wong.

“Well, short version for now, I guess,” Stephen had replied. “Let the briefing be brief.”

No laughing or even a smirk from Wong. In fact the stocky man  showed no signs that he heard the Sorcerer Supreme at all. “Hm. Okay, I’ll make it as concise as possible.” 

Wong started by pointing at his pinky finger on his other hand and proceeded to provide the main points:

“First: Immediately following The Snap, Earth was a complete shitshow-fuckfest. Sudden lack of humanity caused a chain reaction of every vehicle crash and technical problem you could probably think of, and some you probably couldn’t even imagine. As a result it caused a lot of _actual_ deaths. Those people could not be brought back, unfortunately,” he said, his voice becoming quiet and tinged with sadness. 

He pointed at his ring finger. “Secondly, if there was _any_ law, it was _martial_ law for several months. Curfews, food lines, water lines. People waiting for medical treatment. An attempt at order. Some rioting and looting. Some suicides.”

“Thirdly,” he said, pointing at his middle finger, “What was left of Kamar-Taj, The Avengers, government agencies, and other charity groups helped organize, house, clothe, feed, and protect as many civilians as possible, and made sure people got some counseling to deal with loss.”

Wong took a deep breath, referenced his pointer finger with the opposite hand and continued:

“Long story short about a fellow named Scott Lang - you may know him as Ant Man. His girlfriend’s family - the husband, Hank Pym, the wife, Janet, and the daughter, Hope - had sent him into the Quantum Realm to retrieve samples. And then Thanos snapped his fingers and there wasn’t anyone who could bring Scott _back_. That’s a whole _other_ story. He was accidentally brought back to our reality after about 8 months. Because time was so much slower in the Quantum Realm, Scott saw a possibility of traveling to the past to retrieve all the Infinity Stones and snapping their own fingers to bring everyone back... He and a few other Avengers convinced Tony Stark they could build a machine to help them pull a Time-Heist via the Quantum Realm, get all the stones from various times and locations, which they did, and then Bruce Banner put on the gauntlet with the Infinity Stones on it and The Lost were returned.” Wong bent over double and leaned on his knees with his hands. He had to take a few sharp intakes of breaths before he could speak again. “Whew! Which is now. Otherwise, you and I wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“Holy shit!” marveled Dr. Strange. “I still can’t believe they pulled it off! Did they -“

“Yes. Lastly, they returned all the stones back to their corresponding locations and times so they wouldn’t create branching realities,” finished Wong placing a finger on his thumb. "I was going to tell you that, but I ran out of breath...”

“Amazing! Maybe I’ll visit the Avengers at some point and someone can walk me through what that whole process was!” said Stephen with awe in his voice. A fleeting thought came into his head that something was “off” about something Wong had said. Stephen shook the feeling off. 

“Well done giving the Time Stone to Thanos," grinned the stockier sorcerer. "_I_ see what you did there.”

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Wong," huffed Stephen.

As they continued walking, Stephen noticed Wong looking at him with great curiosity. “What?” asked Stephen.

“When you turned to dust, Stephen, did your mind or soul go somewhere else? Did you feel anything? Or were you just... Gone?” Wong stopped walking and looked up intently at his fellow sorcerer. “I’ve asked others and nobody has any recollection of their time between the Snap and now.”

Stephen shook his head. “I have been asking myself the same thing, Wong. It feels like I‘m forgetting something important...”

“How so?” asked Wong.

“You know when you wake up in the morning and have a certainty that you were dreaming,” asked Stephen. “But you can’t remember what the dream was?”

Wong nodded, “Sometimes.”

“Yes, well, that’s how it feels to me,” Dr. Strange explained.“It feels like I _should_ know something, but for the life of me, I don’t know what it is.”

“Hmmm. You let me know if you need help divining your dreams,” said Wong. “Other then listening to Beyoncé, divining is one of my favourite things!”

“By the way, Stephen,” cautioned Wong. “Please take time to rest, try not to get overly focused on this, because obviously we still don’t know if there are going to be any residual effects from people who were Lost.”

“Well, I feel quite refreshed, actually,” said Stephen. “But if I start to feel off, I’ll take your advice, my friend. Thank you for your concern.” Stephen gave the Chinese man a friendly shoulder squeeze.

“Don’t tell _anybody_ I’m nice,” growled Wong, in a hoarse whisper. “I have a reputation to uphold. And don't get all touchy-feely with me in public.”

“Your secret is safe with me, Wong,” said Stephen bowing his head slightly. “Well, what’s the plan for now?” Stephen asked.

“Brace yourself. We have a lot of work to do,” Wong replied. “There are a few things that are still a bit out of whack around here.”

Stephen, Wong, and everyone in Kamar-Taj and the Sanctums had some renewed confusion to deal with since Bruce Banner had brought back The Lost. Everyone left at Kamar-Taj had gotten used to covering for the missing people, or having junior members being temporarily placed at various different stations. 

Some residents were job-sharing a second position as well doing their best to maintain their regular occupations. 

Now that everyone was back, The Returned were able to resume their duties. And the novices who had filled the temporary positions had to go back to what they were doing previous to The Snap. The majority of the novices who had to go back to studying and training were relieved. There were a few who were very reluctant to give up their new status. There was unanimous agreement among all the masters and elders that the experience the novices had from their temporary duties would give them seniority if they ever applied for a permanent position again. This seemed to appease the students as there were no more complaints.

One issue Wong had described to Stephen was how some of the more animated relics, like Stephen’s Cloak of Levitation, had also lost their chosen and were rejoined with them.

Stephen could only surmise these relics lost their humans because they were held, or placed only in the vicinity of their magic-users, not worn constantly like his cloak, Levi. 

“I’m glad we were through this together, buddy” he put his hands on the clasps of his sentient cloak. “On the other hand, I wouldn’t have wished that on you, either.”

Levi had responded by hugging Stephen’s head affectionately with the collar.

Wong looked at a clipboard he had been carrying under his arm.

“On today’s ‘To Do List...’ There are a couple of sentient creatures that had been under our magical care that recently escaped, left, or were taken off the premises,” Wong advised. He sighed in irritation. “It’s really difficult to find something invisible, and not much easier to find something as small as a gnat.”

“Actually, Tai, our Master of Healing, advised me earlier today that the Cheshire cat wasn’t actually lost,” said Stephen. He provided the note from the Healing Master and Wong placed it under his list on the clipboard. “He knew I was heading to the New York Sanctum so he let me know to tell you.”

“Really??” asked Wong. “Then where did the cat end up then??”

Stephen explained that the Master Healer’s cat patient had come for treatment of lockjaw the day before The Return. As a result, the poor cat’s facial expression was frozen in an unsettling smile. Or, last he was seen, anyway. 

“As everyone who has read  Alice In Wonderland  would know, a Cheshire’s smile is known to be the magical - *hem* -  _**cat**_- alyst that begins the process of making him or her disappear into thin air. Those teeth are the last thing seen by anyone before the cat completely fades away.”

“Actually,” corrected Wong, holding up a finger, “A little bit yes, a little bit no. What the smile  _really_ does is activate the _antennas_, usually mistaken for whiskers on the Cheshire cat’s face and some course hairs on the end of the tail.”

“Cat’s whiskers are antennas??” Stephen raised his eyebrows.

“Nope. Just Cheshire cats have antennas,” said Wong, shaking his head.

“Why does a cat need antennas?” asked Stephen.

“To project an electromagnetic field around itself,” replied Wong. “That field then redirects and scatters energy waves around the cat and makes it appear invisible.Or not appear visible, if that’s how you prefer to say it.”

“Fascinating!” said Stephen. “The more I learn, the more I realize I need to learn more!” He shrugged, “Well, according to the note, it turns out our Cheshire was asleep inside his room for the entire time he was thought to be missing. He had just been sleeping deeply and at length because he was recovering from tetanus,” said Stephen, reiterating what Tai had let him know. “Oh, and because he’s a cat.”

Besides the feline issues, Stephen was advised there had been something awry with a security spell by one of the back windows at the New York Sanctum. The spell itself was now fixed because the spellcaster had rematerialized. But, no surprise, the consequences of The Snap had created complications.

“Most security spells deter would-be trespassers from even _thinking_ about poking around any windows or doors,” Wong explained.  “Even if they had the intent to do so, an unauthorized person attempting to enter would just suddenly forget what they were doing there and wander off to find somewhere else to break and enter.”

“So what’s the problem, exactly?” asked Stephen. “Or do I really want to know?”

“What happened was the spell was halfway through when the Master of Security disappeared. This half-finished spell didn't deter people from breaking in. It just made people stop thinking as soon as they broke into the Sanctum! So the few potential thieves who  made it into the building on Bleecker Street are still stricken with pretty bad amnesia. They were found wandering around in the basement of the Sanctum. Just blank,” Wong waved his palm in front of his face, eyes unblinking as if in a trance, as though he was one of the victims.

“Ah. I see. This is going to take some time for which to figure out a remedy!” Stephen said, now understanding. “I’ll get some of the more experienced novices to help me see what they can find in the library.”

Stephen already knew when a spell is cast by someone who disappears or dies, it’s _way_ more difficult to fix, alter, or remove said spell.Anyone else who had the ability to do the spell wouldn’t know the exact point where the original spell-caster stopped and therefore wouldn’t know where to continue.  Essentially, unless it’s a spell specifically meant to be cast by more than one sorcerer, if another person would attempt to finish it, there would usually be a weak spot in the incantation that would make the spell much more vulnerable. It was kind of like welding two different metals together. The two pieces of metal might be equally strong in their own way, but right in the middle there would be a weaker seam.

Other than that, there were a few non-magical repairs and routine maintenance that needed catching up. There was also community support to provide, within and outside the walls of Kamar-Taj. When people had turned to dust, it was impossible to eat all the food, for example, before some of it rotted. Farms were without enough workers to harvest as well as to plant in the spring. And now with the resurgence of the population, there was definitely anticipated a shortage of resources and food. Stephen and a few others were assigned to go outside of Kamar-Taj to see what could be done, with the understanding that others were probably in the same predicament. But there could be something that someone had an over-abundance of or no longer needed that could be bartered or traded for something else.

Once these matters were taken care of, and Kamar-Taj was once again running relatively smoothly, the residents went to regions, locally and abroad, to see if they could be of assistance to anyone else.

Dr. Strange was understandably bone-tired his first few evenings back from wherever he had been when he was turned to ash.The last couple of nights he fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

This night was no different. He closed his eyes as his cloak hung itself on an antique woodecoat rack in his sleeping quarters.


	4. Living In An Ethereal World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephen begins to have dreams that allow him to remember some details that he thought were lost. Initially, after he came back, he couldn’t recall anything when he was turned to dust. 
> 
> Strange is shocked to learn who is communicating with him in these dreams - lost memories from his experiences in some kind of purgatory universe where he ended up after Thanos snapped his fingers. Why was he chosen for this? Is he qualified??? He’s thinking there must be a mistake: how and why was he, a human sorcerer, chosen to be the student of a god?
> 
> Wong helps Stephen figure out what’s happening with some late night library research.
> 
> It would be nice if Stephen would remember not to portal into the Kamar-Taj Library!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stephen had previously returned days after Bruce Banner snapped his fingers with Tony Stark’s home-made gauntlet and the stones gathered from the Time-Heist.
> 
> After an exhausting re-adjustment after his return to the physical world in 2019, Stephen begins to dream about Titan and his time in the Soul Realm of 2018.
> 
> Or... Is it a dream? Perhaps he’s finally remembering what happened while he was in the Soul Stone’s pocket universe.
> 
> Or... Are his 2018 self and his 2019 self somehow merged???
> 
> And who is this intelligent entity that has taken the time to find him in the Realm of the Soul Stone?
> 
> So many questions...

Sometime later in the evening, Levi noticed that the man in his care seemed to be twitching and moving a lot in his sleep. The cloak popped up from the rounded hook it had been resting on and floated over to have a better look at the sorcerer in his bed. 

Levi observed the restless dreamer for a few seconds, tilting at the collar with concern. The cloak spread out and gently came to rest upon Stephen, hoping the heaviness would somehow help to ground the man and calm his sleep. The sorcerer stopped being so twitchy, and was entering into the rapid eye movement portion of his sleep cycle.

There was no way Levi could sense that suddenly Stephen wasn’t in bed, but outdoors...

And this wasn’t Kamar-Taj, or any of the Sanctums. This wasn’t even _Earth_!

_Oh no! Nonononono!! How can I be back on Titan?_ It was happening all over again and he couldn’t stop it. _Not a__gain__!_

2019 Stephen was perplexed, initially, even disoriented. But instead of asking _how_ things were happening, he chose to accept it and investigate later. He calmed himself with meditation, seeking his inner spiritual core for a sense of balance.

_I need to pay attention here... I don’t remember much more than bits and pieces..._

2019 Stephen could see his 2018 physical body lying broken and unconscious on the concrete where he’d been thrown like a rag doll by Thanos. That was what the universe was to Thanos at this point: his playground. And people were his playthings. 

While Stephen’s physical body was unconscious, his 2019 astral consciousness was able to witness the fight between Tony and Thanos. He couldn’t believe what he saw.

Tony Stark. Iron Man. No matter what parts of this engineer’s armor were smashed or ripped off... No matter if the man was physically thrown or hit, and despite having physical items thrown _at_ him, such as... _A moon_?!?! This man, a human, was fighting Thanos _by himself._

_ David and Goliath. _

If Stephen had a physical face right now, it would be scowling in frustration and exasperation. _Where the hell is everyone else?_

Stephen felt his heart go out to Tony Stark. He wished he could help somehow, and he even tried. But this formless version of himself was his... dream-self? His body was back in a bedroom in 2019 in the New York Sanctum. Stephen couldn’t use his hands or his voice here. He tried to concentrate with his thoughts to conjure some strength or assistance for the man fighting for survival. For the safety of the universe.

A sudden thought made him suddenly feel warm and even lighter than he already felt. 

“Protect the Wizard!!” is what Tony had instructed the boy wearing the Spiderman outfit while they were fighting Maw and Obsidian in Greenwich Village in New York. The sorcerer didn’t know _how_ he had overheard or remembered _that_. 

_Oh, Vishanti_, thought Stephen, the warmth churned under and destroyed with a wave of shuddering guilt. _He’s protecting me. He’s ready to die, to protect _me_!!!_

And now Thanos pierced through Tony’s abdomen with the engineer’s own vibranium nano-sword.

Inexplicably Stephen Strange from 2019 found his perspective suddenly two-fold. It felt like he was tipped over to the left and lifted up to the right simultaneously. He wasn't only watching events unfold from the ether as his 2019 Dream-Self. He realized, in addition, that he was now able to see what was happening via his past self on the broken concrete below, from 2018, and feel the physical injuries.

_ Ow... _

Concussion. Definitely. Dizziness and sensitivity to light. Pain and nausea. Fractured ribs, cuts and contusions at the parts of his body that absorbed the most impact from being thrown. His left knee, hip, his shoulder and side of his head ached. He could feel a slight increase of pain that was timed with his heartbeat. Throbbing and stinging pain. His back also hurt, and he was aware of some numbness in his legs, probably indicating serious back injuries.

He felt his 2018 suck in a painful breath, and a sudden jolt of adrenaline when those eyes focused on Tony hanging on a sword below his ribcage, being pushed slowly backward. One of Thanos’s giant hands was holding the sword in Tony's torso, the other hand was practically carrying the engineer by the _head_. 

Somehow, the way Thanos was holding onto Iron Man's skull made both Stephens think of how a father might hold his baby son’s newborn head. The constrast of the sword being through Tony made the entire scene feel surreal. But it was really happening.

Tony was helpless. 

And both 2018 and 2019 Stephen were _sure_ Thanos would show no tolerance or mercy for the brave engineer’s defiance.

The overlap of consciousness made him feel.. . uncomfortable in the weirdest non-physical sense of the word. Stephen didn't recall noticing his future self when his awareness and body were in 2018... Mind you, having a concussion would probably easily mask the ability to detect anything like that. 

But that wasn't the case. Stephen’s consciousness of 2019 felt a sudden swirling feeling in... In his _soul_? As he perceived his 2018 self perceiving his dreaming self of 2019. Both of them again used meditation skills to set themselves steady again.

_ How - ??  _ the both of them wondered.

Stephen’s 2019 dream-self suddenly caught something that made his soul twist slightly in horror and revulsion.

Thanos was looking _straight at the non-corporeal Stephen_, even though the sorcerer should have been _invisible_ to everyone in this scene. 

“No tricks,” warned Thanos, turning his chilling gaze back on 2018 Stephen.

Dr. Strange watched from above, frustratingly disassociated from the scene, but at the same time he could sense and feel his 2018 self in first person point-of-view, calling the Time Stone up from its hiding place.

He watched from both perspectives as his physical self floated the Time Stone to Thanos. Again. 

The deal was, of course, that Tony would go free in exchange for the stone. Thanos had no problem accepting the terms of the agreement and added the Time Stone to his collection.

Thanos disappeared nonchalantly with the Time Stone in a cloud of wispy black and blue mist. Quill had taken a swing at the behemoth, but was too late. 

And then... The Snap. 

“There was no other way,” 2018 Stephen had said regretfully to Tony, while 2019 Stephen observed. _You have to live so you can die later,_ he thought but could not say. _I very much wish it wasn’t so..._

And a few seconds later, he felt suddenly lighter. He felt himself rising up from the surface of Titan.

Titan slowly disappear. And then it was gone.  _Or am I gone?_ But he wasn’t sure where he had gone, or was going.  Or  _when_ he was.

He did perceive that everything seemed to have an orange cast to it. He surmised he must be in the realm of the Soul Stone, floating in the universe like dust on a breeze.

He was able to sense the melting heat and sound of a star’s bubbling liquid surface along with the brilliance and intensity of light, and simultaneously feel the palpable silence and icy grip of the darkness of space.Without a body, without even his astral form, he somehow felt _everything_ because he and the universe seemed to merge. He was wind, water, sand, lightning and thunder. He was the rocks and minerals of planets, hydrogen and helium atoms being compressed and crushed into the hungry dark maw of a black hole. He was rings of dust around gaseous globes of stunning colour. He was the Dark and the Light. He was Everything and Everything was him. He felt so full and wide and...

And then he wondered how he could be aware of all of this. 

_ How is it that I can hear myself think? _

His consciousness was somehow intact, but he couldn’t feel anything the way he normally would as a human being. It reminded him vaguely of the mind trip The Ancient One had given him when he first met her. That had been a shot of reality! This ride seemed a lot tamer comparitively. 

_Even with a substantial intelligence, I was such a stubborn idiot. I treasured_ _my errant beliefs and... lacked the ability to believe in the things that were possible_ _. And now...? Belief is such a tentative thing... Even perception..._

But this time he had no form to return to and no one to help guide him back to his body. _Perhaps I am pure energy._ He wasn’t sure what might be an appropriate way to explain this version of himself to anyone,_ including_ himself. He felt concerned, perhaps, at first, but then that feeling turned into wonder. He began to accept this odd mode of existence. 

_This will last as long as it lasts, _he concluded. _For now, I have nothing to do but do nothing... Which is accepting that I have no control. I wonder where this journey might take me. And will I enjoy the journey? Will it be endless or will there be a destination?_

He eventually realized there wasn’t much point asking himself these questions. His thoughts seemed to crash loudly against silence. Bothersome.  _ I will just be... And I just wait to see what comes. _

_Wait. I think I do know what’s going on! _The revelation startled him initially, but the more he thought about it, the more it had to be correct._ I am 2019 Stephen’s subconsciousness hitching a ride in my 2018 soul... I think...???_

He slowly became aware of another consciousness. _Not his!_ He was so entranced with all that was going on inside and outside of him that he hadn't noticed the first tendrils of something reaching out, searching to join his consciousness. 

_Asking permission??_

Rather abruptly Stephen was awash with a strong presence that was ancient, wise, and benign. He wasn’t sure how long the sentient mind had been observing him. After the initial startle, he tentatively opened himself to this new mind. He wasn’t sure how to do that, but he tried. 

_Who are you?_ Dr. Strange’s essence curiously questioned.

Instead of speaking or a tangible thought with words, Dr. Strange was shown a face. 

Long hair flowing down a strong back. A well-groomed beard starting on a human male face that flowed down past a muscular chest to his midriff. The man wore a simple tunic on his torso. But Stephen noticed something was different.

_Wait, are you... Are you a Centaur???_

Stephen was amazed that from the waist down, the man had the body of a horse! If Stephen still had a face, he was sure his eyes would have been as wide as dinner plates.

The Centaur had a rolled-up piece of paper in his one of his hands. He pulled up on it with the opposite hand so it would open for Stephen to see. The following was written on the paper:

Stephen was certainly intrigued. He wondered if he’d ever have a chance  to pick up a physical book from the library again. He tried to remember something about the Greek language. _Well I don't have Google Translate now, do I?_

_Thank you for showing that to me, sir. _He hoped his thought would transmit and translate as thankful respect to the mind that was communing with him. _I am doctor - I mean, I am Stephen,_ he tried to picture himself for the Centaur, but wasn’t sure if he succeeded. _What is your name?_

_“Χείρων.”_ It was not a sound, it was another visual. 

_It’s all Greek,__ to me,_ Stephen’s mind chuckled weakly. He doubted the joke translated. 

The Centaur’s image in his mind responded with a kindly smile and a nod. The sorcerer got the impression that the reaction was a polite gesture to acknowledge that this being was aware Stephen was trying to jest, and what was ‘said’ had been taken in the spirit in which it was given. 

_I’ll try to come up with better jokes_, thought Stephen. He grimaced inwardly. What was he thinking, making lame jokes to a possibly superior being? Suddenly he felt like a little child trying to remember the words to a song he was trying to sing to his grandparents.

The smiling image of the Centaur had put up a hand, apparently to say goodbye, and had begun to turn around, making his leave.

_Wait, uh, sir! _ Stephen tried to send an urgent wish for the gentle being to stay. _Did I do something wrong? I hope I didn’t insult you with my stupid joke!_

The image turned his head sideways, nodding, and raised his hand again.Stephen got the impression that this wouldn’t be the only time they would meet. 

_Man, it sure is..._ _odd to see the back of a man and the back of a horse walking away._

Dr. Strange then woke up with a start. His hands patted the bed, his torso, his face.His cloak was floating next to him, covering his legs, and two corners of the red velvety material touched his elbows.

“I’m fine..." Stephen wasn't sure if he was assuring the cloak, or if he was assuring himself.

He sat up on his bed, in his room in the New York Sanctum. His heart was racing with excitement, but he paused for a moment to inhale deeply as he felt short of breath. He flung the blankets off and portaled directly to the library in Kamar-Taj to search for books on Ancient Greek language.

Wong appeared shortly after, in an old sweatshirt and sweatpants, wrapping himself in an impossibly fluffy housecoat. “Oh! It’s _you_!” he seemed relieved. Then his face darkened just a little. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised now that you’re back.”

“Sorry if the library alarms woke you,” said Stephen. He was momentarily distracted by the material wrapped around Wong. “I think you might be interested in something I just dreamed. Here.”

”My mom made it for me,” explained Wong crossly. The stockier man had caught the sudden hesitation in Stephen's voice and when the former surgeon did a double-take. “It’s really warm!” he explained tersely.

“Who am I to judge?” Stephen shrugged. He handed Wong a piece of paper upon which Dr. Strange had copied down the words the Centaur had shown him in the dream.

“Huh. Greek,” said Wong, sleepily. He studied the words for a moment. “Wait... This is really, really specific for a dream, Stephen...”

“You can read it?” said Stephen heaving several large books onto the main desk.

“Give me a moment,” said Wong. “I recognize the words ‘the student’ and ‘the teacher,’ at a glance here. I think this is the verb ‘ready’ and that word is something like ‘looks’ or ‘appears.’”

“That phrase is from Greece??” snorted Stephen. “I thought that was a saying from Asian or Eastern regions.”

“Which?” asked Wong, yawning, still not quite awake.

“‘When the student is ready, the teacher appears,’” quoted Stephen. “Wasn’t that Buddha?”

Wong looked confused, but then the cloudy expression parted and he smiled, “Oh! Ha ha! Buddhists like to take the credit for that one,” chuckled the stout man. “It’s actually of Theosophical origin - waaaay more broad than just Buddhism. There’s this idea that the disciple or student will, whether purposely or unaware, call to the universe to find out what is needed to become enlightened. Whatever, enlightenment can manifest in so many ways if someone is paying attention! So it could be applied to any religion, or belief-system.”

Stephen sat down heavily in a chair. He seemed a bit stunned.

“What’s up, doc?” quipped Wong. “Tell me more.”

“Well, I was sleeping and... Started dreaming about disappearing after The Snap. It was like I remembered in my dream what I had forgotten about. I was drifting in outer space without my physical form, but my consciousness was intact. It was different than astral projection because, really I didn’t have a body to go back to...”

“Good point,” said Wong, nodding. “So apparently, you weren’t dead-dead, exactly, by the sounds of it. Maybe you were somehow contained-?“

“By what?” Stephen stared at Wong, trying to wrap his brain around the implications of what the other sorcerer was saying.

“I don’t know, yet,” Wong replied. “Possibly the Soul Stone, I would imagine. At least, that's where your soul probably ended up. So how did you come across this writing? If you were a ghost or a puff of smoke, how could you _see_ this?” Wong held up the paper with Stephen’s writing on it.

“Well, someone was communicating with me, telepathically,” said Stephen.

Wong frowned and squawked, “_Come again??!_”

“It... He was incorporeal, like I was, and somehow he found me,” said Stephen scratching his chin in deep thought. “Instead of showing me a physical piece of paper with the writing on it, he used his thoughts to show me an image of himself holding a scroll with that message on it.”

“Did he reveal his form to you? Did he speak to you?” asked Wong, intensely interested.

“Yes, he showed me what he looked like. And no, he didn’t speak, exactly,” Stephen answered. “He only showed me images that I saw inside my mind. I’m not sure we speak the same language, otherwise I suppose he could have spoken to me. I mean, I could pick up some of what his personality was like, and...”

“Wait, _wait,_” interrupted Wong. “It was another man? Did he give you his name?”

“Uh, well, he was male, but not a man. Well he was _part_ man,” said Stephen, flustering. "Here, let me write it..." He wrote down what he assumed was the being's name. “This is his name as I saw it. I’m not sure how to pronounce this.”

“Okay, so you’re _going_ to make me _ask_ you what the other part of this part-Man was?” asked Wong incredulously. “Stephen!!! Why is getting the most interesting details from you like trying to flatten a mountain with a spatula?!”

“Not like ‘squeezing water from a stone?’” Stephen asked, annoyed. “You had to go straight to 'a mountain' and a 'spatula??'”

“STEPHEN!” hollered Wong, stamping his foot.

Stephen put up his hands in mock terror. “OKAY! Okay! He was part horse. A Centaur!” 

Wong just looked at Stephen without any expression . “You were communicating with a fucking  _ Centaur_?!? Why the hell didn’t you say so in the first place??” He grabbed the piece of paper on which was written the Centaur’s name.

“Oh my God,” said Wong. It was his turn to sit down. “I know this! I totally know this!”

He motioned Stephen to one of the large books that were heaped in the desk. He opened one that read “Greek and Roman Gods.”

“This is ‘ Keiron ’ - spelled with a K in the Greek language. The ‘ Χ ’ is the Greek symbol for the letter ‘ K ’ in the Latin alphabet. The ‘p’ is actually an ‘r.’ And that Greek letter ‘ ν ’ at the end of the name is an ‘ n ’ in the Latin alphabet,” Wong explained. "But we spell it 'K-h-e-i-r-o-n' these days. I don't know why some wise-ass added an 'h' to the name, but that's how the name is recorded in English. You can't even _hear_ the damn h!"

“Wow, you know your Greek,” Stephen said.

“I get bored easily, and I'm a librarian. In a library. Full of _books_,” Wong explained sarcastically, waving off the compliment. “Just a week or so before you got back, I decided to check out this very book we’re looking at. There’s this bit about Apollo, the sun god, and _man_, this stuff is almost like a soap opera! Anyway, Keiron was Apollo’s foster child. Apollo was a protector of the young, and had heaps of kids he looked after. So he taught Keiron pretty much everything: archery, hunting, healing, music... You name it. And then the centaur returned the favour, or paid it forward to his students, I guess. He was pretty much a father figure, fostering them like Apollo had fostered Kheiron.”

“I don’t remember this centaur before. Not even in school,” confessed Stephen. “Why would _he_ want to communicate with  _ me _ ?”

“Well, I have a hunch,” said Wong. “Or more of an educated guess.” He skimmed through the pages of text until he found what he was looking for.

“Here it is:

‘Kheiron was an unusually wise and just Centaur, as he was raised by Apollo.’ 

‘Kheiron learned medicine, herbs, music, archery, hunting, gymnastics and prophecy. He was most known for his affinity and skill with medicine and healing. Sound like anyone you know?” asked Wong, elbowing Stephen.

“Kheiron was a teacher to Achilles, Jason of the Argonauts, Ajax, Perseus, Theseus, Asklepios, and Peleus, and others,” Wong summarized. He paused and looked up at Dr. Strange. “Okay, so here is where I think there is a connection to you. Pay attention.”

“I am,” said Stephen, leaning closer to the book and the illustrations. “_Believe_ me, I am.”

“I mentioned Asklepios. Now this Asklepios guy was, uh, 'freed' from his mother’s womb when she was dead or dying. Maybe it was a C-section or maybe it was more crudely done, there are lots of different versions of the story. Either way, Asklepios’s name means ‘to cut.’ And Asklepios was trained by Kheiron in the art of medicine and healing.”

“Ah! So I am a physician, and so was Asklepios and Kheiron,” said Dr. Strange. “Now it sort of makes sense that he spoke with me, I suppose.”

“Oh, I’m not quite finished, Stephen,” continued Wong. “Just one more thing... ‘Asklepios became so proficient as a healer that he surpassed both Kheiron and his father, Apollo. Asklepios was therefore able to save people from death and to bring others back to life from the brink of death and beyond.’”

“So I guess Hades got annoyed by this, because there were less and less dead for him to look after," paraphrased Wong. "Plus humans started whining because then there wasn’t enough food or land or resources to go around. So Hades bitched about it to Zeus who then freaked out that preventing and defeating death was against the natural order of things. And Zeus blows up poor Asclepius with a thunderbolt.”

“Huh!” Stephen was enthralled. "Hades, you say? Any relation to Thanos?"

“Yeah, right. Soap opera shit. Greek Reality TV.Apollo was pissed off that his dad had killed Asklepios. To Zeus, Asklépios was a grandson. That’s just rude, right? So Apollo killed the Cyclopes who made the thunderbolts for Zeus. Then, Zeus banished Apollo from Olympus and commanded him to serve a human king for a year.”

“After Asklepios's death, Zeus had a change of heart after Apollo gave him shit. Placed the healer among the stars as the constellation Ophiuchis, ’the Serpent Holder,’” the broad-shouldered sorcerer continued.  “I guess Apollo requested to bring Asklépios back at some point, so Zeus resurrected Asklépios as a god and gave him a place on Olympus,” concluded Wong. “Wow, the mood swings in that family!!”

“So, I’m Kheiron’s _pupil_...???” murmured Stephen. “Yikes.”

“Hey, why the long face,” Wong asked Stephen. “He said you’re _ready_! If you weren’t, he wouldn't have appeared. So you’re gonna get schooled!” Wong slapped his knee.

“No pressure, right? Being a god’s pupil?” asked Stephen apprehensively.

“Well, something tells me this dude is really patient. Look at all the people he taught. Mostly kids. You’ll be fine!”

Stephen just looked at Wong with a combination of expressions ranging from exhaustion to fright. "Uh, if I'm not mistaken, those 'kids' were actually gods or demi-gods. I think Kheiron is going to have to lower his standards."

The Asian sorcerer huffed at that. Then he looked Stephen in the eye. "Is it Synchronicity that ‘Kheiron’ is Greek for the word ‘ hand ,’ or 'good with hands,' by the way?” asked Wong.

Stephen looked at his hands. They were a lot shakier than usual. Wong noticed.

“Okay, back to bed with you,” Wong ordered. “And tomorrow you need to take the day off. Make it a long weekend.” 

“I don’t know if I can fall back to sleep after all this,” Stephen yawned.

“Here, drink this tea,” said Wong, waving his hand over the desk. 

Stephen picked up the materialized teacup and saucer and sniffed the beverage. “Chamomile?”

“It’s...  _like _Chamomile,” Wong replied. “It’ll wear off after about 7 or 8 hours. And you’ll wake up feeling refreshed. No grogginess.”

“Thank you, Wong,” said Stephen. He made a portal to go back to his waiting bed.

“And if I catch you trying to do _anything_ but meditation or reading up on this stuff tomorrow, I’ll just drop you into a portal where you’ll free-fall for the rest of your weekend. Then you won’t have much choice _other_ than meditation.”

Stephen smiled at Wong’s concern. “You’re such a bully.” 

“Yes I am,” replied  Wong, waving a menacing fist as a warning to Dr. Strange as he returned to bed.

Stephen was just about asleep when...

”Hey, STEPHEN!!!” said Wong right beside the Supreme Sorcerer’s ear.

”AAAH!!!!!” Stephen flinched to full awareness. “WHA- What what what???” He put a hand on his chest, and could feel his heart pounding. Then rolled his eyes to see Wong there, his head sticking through a portal.

”Oh, nothing,” Wong shrugged. “Except for: **_don’t portal into the library, Stephen_**!”


	5. The Student Is Ready

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephen is jamming for Greek Study and manages to startle Master Wong.
> 
> A new dream helps Stephen remember more of what happened when he had been removed from existence by Thanos in 2018. Interestingly, Stephen finds out his use of the Time Stone and being manipulated by the Soul Stone are part of the reason the Sorcerer Supreme can communicate with Kheiron.
> 
> Speaking of Kheiron, the wise centaur, provides Stephen with a "hitherto undreamt of" surprise!

During the three days Stephen was on “vacation,” he meditated often to see if he could bring Kheiron or other deeply hidden memories out from wherever they were. No luck.

He then tried astral projection. He didn’t seem to have much luck with it, either, as he still felt connected to his body and however deep into his mind he went, the conditions, whatever they were, didn’t allow him to sense anything remotely like what had happened in his dream with the centaur. Wong and Stephen had been up in the morning brainstorming and researching. After Stephen hauled the books home weightlessly in a portable pocket spell, he immediately got to work. 

Hours later, Stephen had books strewn across his desk and pretty much any relatively flat surface, including his lap. A wide perimeter of paper and books encircled the sorcerer. There were bookmarks, scribbled notes on bits of paper, pens, and diagrams he had drawn (with magic, not with his hands, of course). He didn’t want to use highlighter marker in these ancient books and tomes: he used a spell to ‘invisibly’ highlight what he needed to remember. If he needed to look at something again, the pages would automatically turn to the information he had outlined with the incantation. It would also blur out all the other information on the page and increase the font of the referenced information in the book. Quite convenient.

Having an eidetic memory, he didn't necessarily _need_ to mark all these things, but he _wanted_ to for a couple of reasons. One never knew if he'd have the time to write a novel or a memoire, or if someone else might wish to write his story. Or what if he wanted to publish something in a mystic arts journal? Perhaps something he did in his life could be added into curriculum for students. It would be dreadfully slow and painful to have to rewrite or recite all this information himself or to someone else. After he was gone, he wanted _something_ to be left behind. Otherwise, what was the point? Where _else_ would there be any proof that he had he made any contributions or made any difference in the world? Then there was also the possibility that if he disappeared, someone who knew him might figure out where he went, or where he was last seen because of his saved notes. So why not have the notes all organized and ready beforehand? 

Additionally he obtained some software to learn the Greek language and listened to them at night before bed or in the morning as he got ready for the day, or through the night in astral form. And of course Google Translator and YouTube had some great resources. 

Deeply into his research since early morning, he grew increasingly annoyed that he couldn’t find a consensus regarding lucid dreaming and astral projection. There were still disagreements regarding astral projection among many reputable experts. Some argued astral projection wasn’t a real experience, claiming it was a type of lucid dream. Others maintained that astral projection was real and that you have to be awake or, at least, not fully asleep to accomplish it. 

_This is like trying to nail down a puff of smoke._

Stephen _was_ well-acquainted with astral projection.

He recalled when The Ancient One had actually ejected his astral body out of his physical one and had given him a good shaking up. Stephen shuddered involuntarily. He remembered that his physical body was either sleeping or unconscious when he had observed it while he was in astral form.

He remembered when he had gone to Christine for help. He had been fighting for his life against one of Kaecilius’s followers, bleeding out from a magical wound.He had managed to get to the hospital through a portal. Both Stephen and this would-be killer who was trying to extinguish him were in astral form, fighting in the operating room. 

Stephen was able to see his physically wounded body lying unconscious on the gurney and yet he could make his astral projection visible to Christine (she had jumped about three feet off the ground).So he was certain he didn't need to be awake to project astrally. And if Christine was able to see him then, then he wasn’t dreaming.

The most satisfying proof was when Christine had gotten his physical heart started with the defibrillator but Stephen had asked her to shock him again so he could kill his attacker.

He had also watched his body sleeping in bed while he read and studied in astral form. 

_But I don’t _dream _while I’m in astral form._

In any case, he concluded at the moment that he must have to be in REM sleep to achieve the dream state that allowed him to have mental communication with Kheiron. He wondered if it was because REM sleep had specific types of brain waves that somehow matched a frequency in the Soul Realm, or maybe specifically in Kheiron's realm. _Which could also be the same realm as the Soul Stone,_ he mused. _But then why is it that no one else has reported experiences __like mine? We were all sent to the same place, and spent the same amount of time there, and then we all came back at the same time. How is it that no one else has had any dreams about their time in the realm of the Soul Stone?_

A chill ran down his spine._ What if being in a deep sleep, or dreaming, is as close to being dead as possible - without actually experiencing death? Perhaps being trapped within the Realm of the Soul Stone is also as close to being dead as possible, __as well! That might be the way to look at this!_

At this point he had become distracted by how the Soul Stone worked._ Maybe when we all became dust, our atoms just destabilized and dispersed,_pondered Stephen._That sounds more like something to do with the Space Stone... Or maybe the Reality Stone. On the other hand the Power Stone extends control of the Soul Stone to the entire universe. _He scratched his chin, thoughtfully. _I read somewhere that the Soul Stone could __act as a gateway to a pocket universe, but how could it support the flesh? I could understand if it kept everyone’s soul... But their bodies, too??_How _every_ soul could so easily and quickly pair back up with _every_one's bodies in an instant; and how all the atoms of everyone’s flesh, bone, and blood re-coalesced remained a mystery to Stephen. _Later! I can’t worry about this right now. Gotta concentrate on my Greek and Asklepios and such... Dammit, I wish this wasn't so damn interesting so I could focus better on one thing at a time!_

As he slid the book he had just closed across the area carpet, h e summoned another of the open books strewn across his coffee table to his armchair and looked at a chart showing different brainwaves during the journey of sleep.

_I’m a damn neurosurgeon, I should know how the human brain works! It _must _be the period of REM sleep that’s the key. It’s _got_ to be. Because when Rapid Eye Movement occurs, the rest of the physical body becomes inert - well, muscles in the limbs, anyway._ Stephen’s eyes narrowed as he thought back to some barely relevant information that had been in a text book back in his days as a student, and found the graph that he had been looking for after leafing through the book floating in front of him. Muscles_ may not be moving, but there is _intense _brain activity. Brain waves are fast and desynchronized during REM, breathing becomes more rapid, irregular, and shallow; eyes move rapidly in various directions under the eyelids. Heart rate increases and blood pressure rises. It’s also the sleep stage in which most dreams occur. _

Over the next few days, not only did he read up on sleep and brain waves, he also began researching on Kheiron, Asklepios, and the Greek gods in general.

And then he had come across information on a surprising relic in one of the books while he was reading about Asklepios, the god of healing.

“Wong!”Stephen shoved the open book through a small portal to the library. "Check this out! 'The Rod of Asklepios!'"

The Chinese man may have been startled. There were some books on the floor and his teacup had been overturned.

Stephen was mortified. “Oh, I-“

“You _know_ better than to use portals in the library, Stephen!!” snapped Wong. But, even though he was irate, he still took a look at the picture and nodded. “We’ve been looking for that thing for years. Nobody I’ve ever come across here has ever seen it. Not here, not at any of the Sanctums. Not in Greece or Egypt nor any other cradle of civilization.”

Stephen was crestfallen. “Damn! I was hoping it would be around here somewhere,” he said. “At least to just have a look at it.” _Because if Tony is supposed to die... He will. But then maybe I can learn to use the Staff!_

“Sorry, Stephen,” said Wong. “Maybe if you see your Centaur friend again, ask him if he knows where it is.”

“Hmmm,” nodded Stephen. He put the book down, leaving it open. “I wonder when - or if \- I’ll see him again.”

Stephen closed the portal between himself and the library, then opened a new one outside the library. Upon physically entering the spacious collection of books, Wong glared at him from behind the main desk. 

“Thank you, Stephen,” he said with relief in his voice. “I know you’re the Sorcerer Supreme. But I hope you are also aware that you are setting an example for the novices when you enter the room properly. _Without_ setting off any alarms!!”

Dr. Strange spoke with genuine remorse. “I-I usually remember not to portal in to the library... But when I get excited about an epiphany, I completely forget.”

“Oh,” said Wong, suddenly less grumpy. He tilted his head at Stephen. “That sounds more like an ADHD thing.”

“Yes. In fact I know for _sure_ that it’s definitely an ADHD thing,” replied Stephen, cheeks red. “Impulsiveness, bad short term memory, and a little emotional dysregulation.”

“Okay, I can handle it if just _one_ person occasionally forgets that rule,” said Wong, understanding in his voice. “But I’m going to remind you every time you portal in anyway. If you ever portal in and there are novices around, I might swear or try to hit you with something. And if you portal into the library in the presence of a Master or Elder, I might threaten to write you up. I have to at least  _look _ like I’m enforcing the rules. Otherwise everyone and their dog will portal into the library any time they please!”

“Of course,” Stephen smiled. “You’re doing your job. I _think_ I’m improving a little. I’ve remembered and caught myself more and more often to not use the portal in the library. One day it will pass from my working memory into my long term memory.”

“Know what, Master Strange?” Wong grinned back, winking. “You are definitely not a moron. But you are a bit of an  _oxy_ moron.”

“That’s so true!” Stephen huffed and shrugged. “I have an eidetic memory, but in some cases, especially when I don’t have a visual to ‘see’ something to remind myself... I am, in some instances, forgetful. There is no in-between: I either never forget or I never remember.”

“Full-on amnesia,” nodded the Master of Spells. “Maybe put up some reminders or put a visual component into your Portal spell that will be a vision of me hitting you over the head with a huge book!”

Stephen brightened and grinned as he made his way past Wong to grab a few more books. “That’s actually not a bad idea!” 

Wong raised an eyebrow, "Seriously?" 

He had found a relatively thin volume called “The Universe's Rarest-Known Relics” and a much heavier book called “Artifacts,  Relics, and Magical Tools.” He also grabbed a few books dedicated to Apollo, Kheiron, and Asklepios, and some software for learning Greek for his laptop.

“I’m gonna sign these out, Wong,” he told the Chinese master.

Stephen levitated the pile of books so he wouldn’t have to use his shaky hands. He sat at one of the study tables and began to pore over the books, first tackling the subject of the Rod of Asklepios. There were various tellings and versions of the Staff of Asklepios.

In some books the relic was said to be able to adjust to the user’s height and weight. It could be larger, like a staff, a little smaller in diameter and height as a rod or even smaller, as a cane. 

One of the many versions he read advised that a snake had been healed or rescued by Asklepios, and to show appreciation, the snake whispered to healer how to bring someone back from dead. Another story stated that a snake had startled Asklepios and the man had killed it. Then a second snake came along with herbs and the first snake came back to life. That was how Asklepios then came to know what the herbs were to bring people back from the dead as well.

In drawings and in photos of statues, there was always one snake wrapped around a rod or staff. Stephen read that the snake symbolized healing and was considered a connection between earth/humans and the heavens/gods, or a guide to the Underworld.Essentially, the rod and the snake became the connection between life and death, which is the reason the symbol is still seen in the present day on hospitals and ambulances. 

But there didn’t seem to be any specific spells or instructions on how to use the Rod.  _How do you heal someone? Is the holder of the rod supposed to just stand there and will the healing to take place?? Do you just touch someone with the tip? Do you smack them with it? What?? _

Stephen had spent the entirety of three days reading at home in the New York Sanctum or at the Kamar-Taj library. It was now the evening of the third day, and he was _so_ ready to fall into bed. After he closed his portal he merely walked out of his clothing and crawled directly into bed. The sorcerer easily slipped into sleep.

He waited, floating once again, weightless in the vacuum of outer space. Soon enough he became aware of the consciousness of Kheiron again.

In his mind, Stephen saw the Centaur come forward.

He tried out his Greek that he had been learning the last few days. He hoped listening to the Greek language recordings whilst astral projecting as he slept allowed him to keep up.

** _Translated from Greek into English:_ **

“Good day, Kheiron,” said Stephen, acknowledging his teacher.

The image in his mind of Kheiron looked up at the image of Stephen and smiled. “Greetings, young traveler. You are learning Greek!”

“‘When the student is ready, the teacher will come,’” recited Stephen, and made his image bow respectfully.

“And you are an exceptional student,” responded the Centaur. “In more ways than you can probably imagine!”

“How so?” Stephen inquired.

“First things first,” chuckled the centaur, holding up a hand as if motioning for him to slow down. "We have a Task for you that we hope you can fulfill for us. This will be explained another time we meet."

“You said ‘we’ and ‘us?’” asked Stephen.

“Myself and one of my former students,” replied Kheiron, winking. The centaur shifted from one hoof to the other.

“Asklepios?” asked Stephen, trying not to sound overly incredulous.

“Very astute,” replied the centaur, beaming.  “And as such, Asklepios and I have been keenly interested in the 2018 events.”

“Th-Thanos? The Infinity Stones?” asked Stephen after he had a moment to go process what Kheiron had said.

“Yes, but you remember - or do you yet - that you who were sent here to _this_ Realm will all be brought back into being again.”

Stephen was confused. “Wait. How can you see into the future? I thought I was in a dream about 2018, not after. And, by the way... What is _here_, Kheiron? Or should I be asking _when _is here?” Stephen inquired. He was burning to ask the question. “Are we in some kind of pocket universe? Is this the Realm of the Soul Stone?”

Kheiron seemed to be impressed with the line of questioning, because Stephen had only seen the smile get wider during the course of their conversation. 

“Stephen Vincent Strange, you may be dreaming about what happened in 2018. But your physical body is also alive and present in 2019,” explained Kheiron. “Are you cognizant of this? Do you feel _only_ yourself from 2019? ”

”Huh... One moment, please,” muttered Stephen. He concentrated... _Which _me_ am I?_ He _thought_ he was only 2019 Stephen dreaming of his interaction with Kheiron about the past of 2018... 

He began to feel the oddest sensation. It was a quiet connection of some kind. _Wait... No... It’s getting stronger..._ He had no body or nerves or sense of touch, but he felt what must’ve been his soul’s version of vertigo. Somehow he felt as though he’d been spun and dropped suddenly. If he had his stomach or his inner ear, he would have felt something like a cold elastic band snapping between his ears and something pulling upward on his stomach. _I wonder what Soul vomit looks like?!?_ He had no choice but to let the feeling wash over him - he could have described it as his soul being sick to its stomach.

But there was the _other_ Stephen! It was _him_, but it was himself from 2018! Stephen was momentarily... Seeing double? He was uncomfortably aware of 2018 Stephen suddenly noticing the existence of dreaming 2019 Stephen. 

And then, what seemed tantamount to the wind slamming a door shut, Stephen’s memory from 2018, sprang into his mind. The recollection that wasn’t there a second ago: that Stephen who was just Snapped out of existence by Thanos, the Stephen from 2018, had sensed himself as dreaming in 2019. 

“Woah,” groaned Stephen. “Are my past and present souls converging and overlaying each other? Or am I one soul with two separate memories. I felt... I _feel_ myself from 2018 _and_ from now - er, 2019. It feels like I remember it as it was _and_ I am seeing it for the first time!”

“Yes! Both,” said Kheiron with an empathetic grimace. “Complicated, isn’t it?“

”And... This... Doesn’t seem to be creating a Paradox?” asked Stephen.

”Because both the past you and present you share the same soul,” reasoned the centaur. “There is nothing but soul and the _mind of the soul_ in this realm.”

“The mind of the... _The mind of the soul! _Yes...” said Stephen. “And, _please_, tell me I will remember this when I wake...?”

“Yes. You now remember the first time we met, in 2018,” said Kheiron. “You will remember the next time you wake because now it is a memory, not just a dream.  Perhaps you recall that one of my gifts is that of an Oracle,” continued Kheiron, conversationally, whisking his tail over the sides and back of his horse-body. “At this moment, I see from _my_ perspective, you from 2018, when you and so many others arrived in the Soul Realm. I also see you as you are dreaming of your journey through this realm and I see your dreaming soul is attached to your body, sleeping in bed in 2019, a year later.”

"Ugh... Forgive me, Kheiron," said the sorcerer. "I think my soul is getting the equivalent of a headache. Are you saying that before 2019, the reason I had no memory of the Sould Realm was because... I needed to see it from outside the Soul Realm - in my dreams??? So... I had to dream about these events with my subconscious dreaming soul-mind before they could become conscious???"

"That's right! Your 2018 body doesn't exist in this realm," grinned Kheiron. "But your 2019 body exists, so now you can store the memories in your _physical_ mind."

Stephen nodded, “Okay, then. And you’re saying you can see the both the past _and_ future?”

“In a manner of speaking, my dear pupil,” replied Kheiron. He smoothed down his beard with his hands. “I can see  _your _ past and future, specifically.”

The centaur smiled as Stephen puzzled that over. “You can only see  _ my  _ timeline? Why is that?”

Kheiron smiled.  “Stephen, I am curious if you are aware of your lineage?”

“My lineage?” Stephen was confused. “My ancestry has something to do with you and Asklepios?”

Kheiron nodded. “You are a direct ancestor of Asklepios.”

“_Excuse me??” _ squeaked Stephen. He was certain if he’d had a body to go with his soul mind, he would’ve turned to a pale sheet of white and his jaw would likely be hanging open.

“You heard me, Stephen,” chuckled the centaur amused at the reaction. "I believe in 2019, you can find proof of this."

"We do have quite a few really great genealogy companies I could research," Stephen said. Somehow he felt numb. The surprise of the information was still being absorbed. Time seemed to have stopped for Stephen. He remembered he felt the same way in 2018.

“I’m sorry, I think I’m getting a little mentally tired,” said Stephen feeling something like pressure, maybe the incorporeal version of a migraine. “I mean no disrespect! But this is a lot to take in!”

“There is no need to apologize,” said the centaur in a compassionate voice. “This does not mean you are not intelligent. It is more of an emotional and time adjustment. It was much the same for me, when I was the student. It can be overwhelming.”

“Is... Is it because I was touched by the influence of the Soul Stone, I can come back to... this place, but specifically the time Thanos sent me here,” reiterated Stephen, taking in as much as he could amongst the space dust and stars. “And the reason I can communicate with you in my dreams of the past is because of the Time Stone?”

“It is so! We are in the Realm of the Soul Stone at the moment. You have been here before - in 2018 - and anyone touched by the Soul Stone can be changed by it in some way. In your case, you also had the Time Stone at one point. Currently your body is in the future, in 2019, sleeping, and your soul-mind in this space is of _that_ body, but you are also in 2018 inside the Realm of the Soul Stone and are - or were - of _that_ body. So there are some traces of the Time Stone somehow still upon your mind. And through your dreams you can find this Realm and therefore we can find each other,” explained Kheiron. “Three other factors favour you. For one, you are a mystic sorcerer. Additionally, you are also a descendant of Asklepios.”

“What is the third reason?”

“Your mind. It is not like other minds,” said Kheiron, winking. “Most men can only think in organized, linear fashion, one thing at a time. But with a mind like yours, thoughts move at incredible speeds, and you can think in many directions at one time. Your thoughts can even overlap each other.You also have heightened skills of focus that few can match! You have a beautiful mind, my child,” chuckled the ancient being. “You’re definitely related to Asklepios!”

Stephen was stunned. “Are you saying... I can come to this place in my dreams and communicate with you because ... Because of my _ADHD!?_”

“If this label ‘ADHD’ describes your gifts, I suppose it is so,” replied the centaur. “Many do not know this about a mind such as yours as it is _very_ rare, indeed: therein manifests a lack of awareness of time. This is because, like other aspects, your mind has the ability to go forward and backward and in multiple directions in quick succession. Not just in _multi_-_directional thinking_, but also in _multi-directional time_. But _only_ while you are in the Realm of The Soul Stone.”

Stephen felt like his intellect was a tiny atom floundering in Kheiron's much more collosal intellect and that he desperately needed to tread water a bit longer before he drowned.

“Stephen,” the centaur spoke softly. 

Stephen felt again like a small child, “Yes, Kheiron?”

“I have something for you from Asklepios,” said the creature, bearing a mischievous, lopsided grin. “You have been wondering about it and how to use it recently, have you not?”

Stephen was awestruck. There before him, in the hands of Kheiron, was the _Rod of Asklepios._

“Oh my God,” Stephen realized that if he had physical form, his eyes would have been as big as saucers. “I... I know what that is!!!”

“We will discuss more about this device, and how to wield it,” said the centaur, bowing his head.“We have covered much, and you need to rest.”

“Are you leaving again?” asked Stephen, feeling once again like a little boy, hoping his friend didn’t have to go home for supper yet.

“Both you and I need to leave in order to meet again, son of Asklepios,” soothed Kheiron. “If one does not rest and study between lessons, the knowledge slips away from the mind. I leave you with a riddle!” 

“Is this for extra credit?” asked Stephen, dryly. 

This evoked a booming shoulder-shaking laugh from Kheiron. “It is a challenge. You may give your _self_ extra credit if you solve it!”

His parting words to Stephen were:

“The riddle goes as follows: ‘Magnetic metal meddled with by men to test the mettle of Mother as she mourned at midnight.’”

“_What_ ??” Stephen wasn’t sure if it was a riddle or a joke.

Kheiron laughed again, and repeated the lines for Stephen. He asked Stephen to repeat it back to him before he bowed his human head and the front end of his equine body.

“You have memorized the riddle, so I will give my farewell,” said the centaur as he turned around to leave.

“Farewell, then, Kheiron!” said Stephen.

And of course, as soon as Stephen woke up, he sprang up and grabbed a journal he had placed at his bedside. Levi’s collar lifted off of Stephen momentarily to observe what was going on. 

“Sorry if I startled you, Levi,” Stephen apologized. He gently patted the cloak and it settled back down on the bed.

Stephen wrote down the words of Kheiron immediately while they were fresh in his mind. Then he flopped back down on his bed.

He was so emotionally and mentally exhausted that he fell asleep again much easier than he would have thought.


	6. Blast From The Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephen has been meeting in his dreams regularly at least once a week with Kheiron. The Rod of Asklepios is further explained.
> 
> Stephen remembers something that, for some reason, slipped his mind. And it’s really really important. 
> 
> And why are the important things sometimes such a strain on someone’s conscience?
> 
> Obviously this chapter is still under construction. Fortunately after this chapter is written, I have several other chapters that I already wrote.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **********CAUTION: SPOILERS FOR FAR FROM HOME/ENDGAME***********
> 
> Some more references:
> 
> Roughly the time immediately after The Blip, according to articles I’ve read, was either December 2023 or January 2024. If “Far From Home” was in July and had taken place 8 months ago, that would mean The Snap occurred in 2023 and now the year is 2024. The article seems to think it could still be 2023, in which case The Snap occurred in January 2023 and “Far From Home” was August 2023.  
https://www.express.co.uk/entertainment/films/1147981/Spider-Man-Far-From-Home-timeline-when-take-place-2023-mcu-marvel-snap-blip
> 
> EMDR: https://www.webmd.com/mental-health/emdr-what-is-it#1
> 
> REM/Why Rapid Eye Movement is critical  
https://sleepbetter.org/rem-sleep-critical-for-memory-formation/
> 
> REM critical for processing distressing emotions:  
https://www.brainpost.co/weekly-brainpost/2019/7/23/uninterrupted-rem-sleep-is-critical-for-processing-distressing-emotions

After a very busy first few weeks since The Return, Stephen had finally found time to contact Tony Stark. He had seen from the news and Google Searches that the engineer had played a huge part in rescuing all the beings in the universe. Without his calculations and design, it wouldn’t have been possible for The Avengers to bring everyone back.

“You Googled me?” asked Tony, amusement obvious in his tone.  ”I suspected you had a hand in bringing everyone back after The Snap,” said Dr. Strange. “Google merely confirmed that I was correct.”

“Actually, Banner _had_ a hand - “

“Mr. Stark!” huffed Stephen, trying to sound offended on behalf of Bruce Banner. The Hulk had a very badly damaged arm, and it wasn’t likely to heal completely, even though he had amazing healing abilities. 

“What? Bruce doesn’t mind, he jokes about it, too. He tells me it takes some of the anguish away, a little, and helps him heal. I swear I would not joke about it otherwise.” Tony said earnestly, and then changed the subject in the next breath. “Well, what can I say, really? I Googled you once I made it home. I’ve had an entire year to look you up!”

”I’m sure you had better things to do than stalk me on the internet,” retorted Stephen. 

“Oh, you mean, like, hide from the world? Night terrors? Flashbacks? Therapy?” snorted the engineer.“You’re right, that did take some time away from your fascinating background check.” 

There was an awkward silence on the phone. Stephen felt a stab of guilt. He knew that although Tony’s voice remained chipper and bright, the words spoken held the weight of pain and trauma.

“I... I feel that I need to apologize,” said Dr. Strange, after clearing his throat.

”Why do you think you need to apologize, Belgarath?” 

Stephen had to pause for a moment before he recalled the reference of Belgarath was to a wizard in a series of books by David Eddings. He smiled that Tony was able to distract him from his discomfort for a moment.“Uh, well, I saw the look on your face on Titan,” said Stephen, his voice indicating a loss of confidence and a fullness of quiet remorse. “When I... I gave the Time Stone to Thanos. The feelings written across your face will be remembered for a long time.I really hate myself for putting that expression upon it.”

There was no immediate reply on the other end. Tony contemplated his response carefully. He sighed, “Ya know, Dr. Strange,” replied Tony. “I’ve had a lot more time than you to think things over on my end. And an entire year of therapy. I’ve realized one thing. There’s only one person who should shoulder that guilt. And it isn’t you. Thanos is solely to blame. C’mon, you’re way too hard on yourself!”

”I couldn’t let you die,” said the sorcerer. “You had to live...” Stephen continued only inside his own head. _And it wasn’t only because I didn’t want you to die. It wasn’t even because all life is precious, or that I pledged an oath to save lives. _

Although his mouth had opened to form another sentence, Stephen made himself stop that line of thinking entirely. He was almost going to retort that he had been provided with the same amount of time to think things over, just in a different universe. No need to go there, as thoughts that were too close to the surface could accidentally fall out of him as words. His heart was beating in his ears. He didn’t like to hide crucial information from anyone, as it felt like he was a lying by omission. He hated that he couldn’t just spill the truth out into the open so Tony would understand why he could not die at that time. He had to remain alive to win the last battle. His conscience tied a knot in his stomach. 

“Ah, thank you,” said Tony, as though he was trying to brush away the thought. “I felt bad that you were one of the Lost Ones after The Snap. I mean, not sure if you know...” Tony’s voice became thick with emotion. “Everybody... except Nebula and I were gone from Titan. We had to limp home in Nebula’s ship. I... I thought we were gonna die on the way home. And... I... lost the kid...”

Stephen listened to the broken breathing of a man trying to keep himself from falling apart. 

He heard a mumbled “One sec, Merlin,” and heard the engineer blowing his nose. For a moment the sorcerer’s own heart felt like it would break, too.

“Sorry about that, still gets me every time I think about it,” apologized Tony. “I guess it’s obvious that I lied to you, Dr. Strange,” sighed Tony vaulting into another, apparently regularly-occurring non sequitur. 

”What are you talking about, Mr. Stark??” Stephen wracked his brain to figure out what Tony was talking about.

”That Peter Parker kid,” said Tony, sniffling. “You know when you asked if he was in my care and I said ‘no?’” 

“Indeed. Well, Mr. Stark, sometimes love is scary,” responded Stephen.He remembered very well when Tony had been chastising the adolescent for sneaking aboard the spacecraft. “It can make it very hard to admit when we really love someone. And it can be difficult to realize how deeply you are connected to someone. And I know from experience... Sometimes you have to lose what you _have_ before you come to know what you _had_.”

This time the quiet on either end of the phone call seemed more comfortable.

“Well, Pete’s back now, of course!” snorted the engineer.“Not sure why I still get all worked up about it, still.But... I’ll tell you something I haven’t told anyone else, yet... I’d like to adopt him... someday. That should tell you my true feelings for him. I’ve been trying to be more honest with myself over the past few months.”

“The bŌyamatsumi will be in good hands,” said Stephen. Just watching Stark and Peter told Stephen their relationship was deeper than either of them had been ready to accept. “Congratulations!”

“Thanks, Wizard!”

“Sorcerer.”

“Oh, right! By the way... I kind of figured there was a good reason,” said Tony. 

“For-?” Stephen realized Tony was more or less just verbalizing thoughts as they came to him, no matter if they were randomly ordered.

”For exchanging the Time Stone for my life,” explained the engineer. “You’re the Sorcerer Supreme. And for the short time we’ve known each other, I have observed that you aren’t one to just throw caution to the wind. You are careful. You are a man of discrimination - in a good way.”

”I still... I feel terrible that I had to do so, but it was the correct path to choose. It may have seemed to be a betrayal,” Stephen blurted. “It felt like it was, even to me... But it wasn’t.”

”It’s alright, Dr. Strange. I told you that you had good moral fiber,” said Tony. “Although at the time, I was kind of a jerk about it. And remember you telling me that if it was a choice between the Time Stone and our lives, it would be the Time Stone? I get it.”

“And what, exactly, do you  _get_ ?” 

“I get that some things are bigger than us” Tony Stark explained. “The entire universe is more important than the life of one person. Or even a few people. Or even one planet. It’s a hard truth. So when you gave that stone to Thanos, I knew there’s a bigger picture than I can see.”

Stephen didn’t respond. He was trying to prevent himself from losing his emotional control. He swallowed the lump in his throat and hoped it wasn’t audible on the other end of the call...

“I’m still not 100% sure for what purpose I’m still alive,” murmured Tony. “And if I think about it too much, it scares the hell outta me. But I know it’s an important reason.And sometimes I’m actually at peace with whatever happens.”

“Mr. Stark,” said Stephen with a lump in his throat. “Thank you for understanding that.”  _And for not pumping me for information that I want to give you, but I can’t._

”Hey, no need to thank me, Dr. Strange,” Tony respectfully replied. “Some people are saddled with the most difficult decisions imaginable. You made a necessary, but insanely difficult call. I don’t even know if I could do that. I’m a selfish man.”

“Some people may think that, Mr. Stark,” disagreed the sorcerer. “But you don’t fool me. You don’t have a selfish bone in your body.”

Tony guffawed. “You don’t know that for sure, doc!” he laughed. “You haven’t seen any of the X-rays on my file.”

Stephen laughed again, despite himself.

”Hey, you know what?” said Tony. “We should get together for coffee or something. I mean, if you have _time_,” he put just a little inflection on the last word. “Ooh. You just rolled your eyes at me didn’t you? I felt it from here.”

“My coffee is tea.And I should have time for a visit during a regular day,” Stephen huffed. “And I rolled my eyes with you, not at you.”

“Yeah? Well, how did you know I was rolling my eyes at myself?” Tony pretended to be annoyed. “Hey, if I called a week in advance, would that be good?” asked Tony. “We can play it by ear if you want.”

”A week’s notice should be ample, Mr. Stark,” Stephen replied. “It will be nice to see you without extenuating circumstances.”

”That’s for sure, doc,” said the engineer, suddenly sounding more tired. “I am so tired of extenuating circumstances. Have a good week, Dr. Strange.”

Stephen said his goodbye and ended the call. He leaned back in his armchair at the Sanctum Sanctorum and looked through the window at the darkening sky. Deep purple slowly took over the bright orange and pink in the clouds. As he had made it a habit since his medical training, he picked up his journal to write down thoughts to reflect on the day. The only more recent change in the routine was that he magicked his quill pen to write his dictation or draw sketches in his journal.

He had planned to call Bruce Banner and thank him for his part in the reversal of The Snap, maybe even come visit so he could see if anything could be done about the Hulk’s damaged arm. But the talk with Tony Stark had left him feeling somewhat emotionally and mentally drained. _Perhaps tomorrow..._

Dr. Strange wrote in his notes for the day, and then glanced over previous notes as he reflected on the three weeks since his return.

* * *

* * *

** _January 19, 2019_ **

_Solved K’s riddle: ‘Magnetic metal meddled with by men to test the mettle of Mother as she mourned at midnight.’ _

_\- Magnetic metal: most common is Iron (or alloys of steel, which are composed primarily of iron along with various other metals or materials)_

_\- likely Iron Age_

_\- “Testing mettle” is testing quality and strength_

_\- “Mother” could be Mother Land_

_\- Mourning, as in grief for loss of her children_

_\- “Midnight” could be literal meaning “middle of the night” or more figuratively describing “the darkest hour” or “dark night of the soul.” Possibly “Dark Ages.” _

_\- Since Kheiron is Greek, one would assume this riddle is about the **Dark Ages in Greece**, jjapproximately 1200 BC. Greece suffered from earthquakes, drought resulting in starvation, and political and military conflict.”_

* * *

_ ** January 25th, 2019 ** _

_K confirmed: Relic can only be used while in REM sleep. It is only in the stage of dreaming that one can feel the relic as solid. _

_ Must remember to ask K and Wong: _

_\- is there is a way to induce REM while awake?_

_\- can normal REM brainwaves be induced by magic or drugs?_

_REM sleep is critical for memory retention. Lack of it may lead to Alzheimer’s or Parkinson’s Disease (and/or other)._

_Researched/Googled and found information that there is a type of therapy that helps people with symptoms of anxiety, PTSD, those who have intrusive thoughts.Seems to be proof/research/empirical data that seems to work, but it is still controversial and not all psychologists/psychiatrists support it. Might ask Wong if he knows anyone at Kamar-Taj who could assist me with this “**EMDR**.”_

* * *

_ ** January 28th, 2019 ** _

_K advised of fail safes placed upon the Relic. In the past, A was killed by Z for “curing” too many people of death. Death is necessary for several reasons:_

> _⁃ population control/balance_
> 
> _⁃ balance of resources_
> 
> _⁃ lower crime rates_
> 
> _⁃ less civil unrest and protesting/riots_
> 
> _⁃ better mental health_
> 
> _⁃ general peacefulness rather than having to enforce curfews, martial law, police/military state._
> 
> _\- it provides Hades with a meaningful occupation. You don’t wanna piss of the CEO of Hades._

_Therefore there are some precautions/rules/fail-safes that come with the use of the Relic:_

_1.) The healer can only accomplish the first use of the Relic while in the deepest sleep. The difficulty level ensures that only the most dedicated and worthy healer can use the Relic. After the Relic has been used once while the wielder is in the deepest sleep, it will become gradually become easier with time to use it. _

_2.) No healer who wields the Relic can use it to raise the dead more than three times. _

_3.) If the deceased is more than 7 minutes dead, resurrection is NOT recommended._

_4.) The one who wields the Relic cannot raise more than three dead people at the same time. The total resurrections can only total three._

_5.) If the wielder attempts to raise more than three dead, the consequence will be that the one who holds the Relic will be absorbed into the Relic itself. Future users may find this advantageous, as it only makes the Relic easier to communicate with and increases its abilities to heal. This may not be ideal for the healer._

_6.) The Relic may be used to heal or cure all manner of wounds and health issues, including serious flu, wounds from attacks or accidents, bee stings, cancer, etc. The healer can also help someone recover from a paper cut or a stubbed toe, however, it is considered more economical to use the Relic for very serious contingencies. _

_7.) In the case of anaphylactic allergic reactions bee stings, terminal cancer, or other potentially fatal diseases, the healer using the Relic can be at ease that this does not count as resurrection: it is preventing someone from dying. If the person has already passed on from the ailment, then yes, that will count as a resurrection._

_8.) The Relic is beholden to the Hippocratic Oath, and therefore will heal all, not just the wealthy, influential, beautiful, famous, or anyone of advantage or privilege. It is forbidden for the user of the Relic to decide if someone is worthy of healing, it is thought that there may be rare exception, but it will be decided by the Relic, not the user._

_9.) If the user of the Relic does not attempt to heal someone because of bias, anger, disagreement, politics, or any other discrimination or belief, be warned that this can be another reason for the healer to become absorbed by the Relic. _

_10.) Healing is not limited to human beings. Consider animals, or plants. For example: if the healer is aware of an injured animal who has young to feed or a rare medicinal plant near extinction that has some kind of blight, this may be reason enough to use the Relic. _

_11.) If the person the healer is attempting to assist is of sound mind, 18 years old or older, and declares s/he does not wish to be healed, the Relic will respect the wishes of that person. If the wounded/ill are considered children/underage or not of sound mind, the Relic will still heal that person._

* * *

* * *

There were also notes from the first meeting of Kheiron, and the subsequent visit, but those entries were several pages long.

Unlike the first few weeks, things were starting to slow down, finally settling into more of a routine. Stephen was still exhausted and decided to turn in for the night. He looked out the large window and saw that the sun had gone down, and although there was still some light in the sky. It was still fairly early, but the sorcerer decided to go to bed and curl up with a good text book. He lost track of time, enthralled as he was in the book.

🕘🕙🕚🕛🕐

The sorcerer must have fallen asleep reading, because here he was again, out in the great wide expanse of his dreams.Kheiron was before him, holding the Rod of Asklépios.

“I believe you are ready to try holding this, Stephen,” said the centaur, smiling.“I should make you aware that this Rod holds the mind of Asklépios, and he may manifest in your mind while you are learning. You may have some communication with him while using the rod, whether it be verbal or visual.”

“I am excited to begin my training,” replied Stephen. He was nervous, too, but Kheiron understood and accepted his energy. Anyone would be a little nervous to speak right a god!

Kheiron handed the rod to Dr. Strange, who eagerly took it from the centaur. “Thank you, Kheiron,” stated Stephen, bowing his head slightly. “I’m honoured!”

“I am also honoured to bestow this upon you!” replied the centaur. 

Stephen simply held on to the rod of Asklépios for now. He closed his eyes and began to meditate.He smiled when he realized he was in a dream, meditating. 

Slowly an image began to appear as he grasped the smooth wood of the rod.A very familiar face.

Kheiron noticed the bewilderment that Stephen suddenly felt. “Do you have any questions, Stephen?” he asked the former surgeon as he raised an eyebrow. 

“Is this some kind of... joke?” He noted the lopsided grin on Kheiron’s face and the slightest of smirks upon the face of who was likely his oldest ancestor.

“I am Asklépios,” said the new voice that came with the new image of a man. “But I can understand if you are somewhat consternated by what you see.” Stephen heard both Asklépios and Kheiron laughing quietly.

Dr. Strange looked into a face that remarkably resembled his own. If it were not for slight difference in hair colour and the full beard, Dr. Stephen Strange could’ve been looking into a mirror. 

“Well, you and I _are_ related, after all!” chuckled Asklépio

Stephen was so full of so many questions that he couldn’t begin to know how to start, and therefore he was rendered speechless.

“I think perhaps we’ll end our lesson for the day,” said the centaur with a kind smile. “Perhaps a few days of rest will help you recover from the surprise!”

“I don’t recall people reacting like that before,” said Asklépios, pretending to be insulted. “I never had to treat anyone for shock for just seeing my face!”

“I’m sorry if I was rude.” said the sorcerer, somewhat recovered. “I just wasn’t expecting to meet my twin!”

“It’s very understandable, Stephen,” said Kheiron. “I’m more used to a stunned reaction. I was a very unusual centaur, because I had learning and my teacher was Apollo. Centaurs were generally avoided, because they were more about mischief and mayhem and had no interest in refinement.”

“By the way, Stephen,” the Greek god, Asklépios, motioned to Dr. Strange. “Since you’re leaving so soon, I suppose this is something I should leave you with,” Asklépios chuckled again. He pulled out a drawn image of someone.

“Well now, who is th-?” asked Stephen, and then tapered off. His tongue and his brain had some kind of short. “This... This is... Almost too ‘on the nose,’ don’t you think?”

His reaction may have been justified, since the sorcerer was now holding a drawing of a man dressed in red armour, with the face of Tony Stark.

Asklépios looked down at the drawing with deep affection.“This? This is a drawing of my beloved.His name is Anthony Edward Stark.”

At that moment he sat up in bed, wrote an entry in his dream journal, and then summoned himself more of that Chamomile tea from Wong.


	7. May I Have Your Attention, Please?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Stephen hang out, getting to be really good friends. Although there’s something else going on, too, below the surface that makes Tony feel uncomfortable at times. It perplexes him but he tries to ignore whatever it is because of how well he and Stephen are getting along.
> 
> Also, what’s all this about him possibly having ADHD?!?

There were several times that both Stephen and Tony just “clicked.” Like the time they had gone to get coffee at a little Malibu cafe that Stephen had recommended. Tony had gone off on another tangent and had forgotten what they were originally discussing. Again.

“Geez,” said Tony, clearly annoyed with himself. “I don’t know why I do that so often! It’s so damn irritating. I’m totally sorry, Stephen. I didn’t mean to do that to you, seriously.” _I'm always wasting everyone's time. And everyone is always in a hurry. Even me. And I even waste my own time..._

“It’s okay, my friend,” said Stephen. “No need to beat yourself up about it.”

“Do you know what my doctor asked me the other day?” Tony asked, clearly irritated.

“Do tell.”

“She asked if I had ever been diagnosed with ADHD,” Tony growled. 

Stephen leaned back and thought a moment. “Well.... When you were a child, did you get into trouble a lot?” Stephen asked it kindly, not sarcastically. "Like, a _lot_ lot?"

“HA! Can you be a little more specific?” asked Tony, rolling his eyes.

“Did yoooou... find it hard to control your emotions?” the sorcerer asked. “When you were a kid and you got angry, for example, did you sometimes break things or try to hit people? And then sometimes you'd regret what was said or done, but you couldn't take it back?”

Tony was surprised. He seemed to recall many incidents. “I’m going to have to say yes on that. It was a lot more than ‘_sometimes_.’ And then I'd be so mad at myself because I couldn't keep friends.”

“Did you try really hard to do tasks the way you were told?” Stephen had asked. “Did your fellow students at school always seem to get things done so easily, and you found you _could_ do the same things, but you had to work _much_ harder and sometimes longer to accomplish the same things?”

“Yeah! Wait,” Tony was irritated, wondering what was going on. He looked sideways at Stephen. "Were you _there_ with me when I was growing up? How do you know this stuff about me??”

“I didn't know you as a child, at least not personally. I promise," Stephen said, keeping his voice even and calm even when Tony's voice was getting somewhat louder and higher-pitched. "When someone was talking to you, and there were other things going on around you, did you find it hard to focus on or remember what was said to you?”

“Oh, yeah. Still happens,” said Tony, nodding. "Depends on the situation, though. Sometimes a person could call me 10 times and I'd only hear the last time they said my name and by then they were either hollering at me or were in my face telling me my attitude sucked or I didn't respect them or whatever."

“Sounds like people would get angry with you and accuse you of being uncaring,” Dr. Strange continued: “And maybe some people made you feel bad about yourself even though you had the best of intentions. I know you are an intelligent person, Tony. But I wonder, did your teachers sometimes think otherwise?”

“Yeah, some of my teachers. Like the one that liked to hit me with a yardstick if I wasn't paying attention. Or my dad, who'd give me a smack upside the head. This is creepin’ me out, Stephen,” said Tony, now immobile on the opposite side of the table. Stephen noted that Tony's knuckles were turning white from gripping the table. “Yeah. And I was already mad at myself because I knew I screwed up. So people getting in my face made me even more angry and miserable!” He smacked his hand onto the table when he said the last word, causing the table and Stephen’s tea to shake. “Whoops! Sorry, Stephen.”

“Interesting,” the sorcerer muttered to himself. He picked up his tea and took a sip and looked at Tony over the top of his cup.

“Your eyes are really blue today,“ Tony blurted. “I thought they were green.”

Stephen blinked and almost choked on his tea. He cleared his throat a few times.

“Sorry,” Tony apologized, feeling a bit embarrassed. “I mean, they’re quite striking, just coulda sworn they were green,” he muttered.

“It’s okay, Tony, really!” Stephen laughed softly. “My eyes do appear to change colour. It’s a type of heterochromia.” He seemed a bit bashful about it. “My eyes are actually two different colours. Sort of. The inner part of my irises are goldish-green, the outer part is blue. And I have a little smattering of sectoral heterochromia of brown in my right eye, above the iris...”

“Oh yeah,” said Tony. He leaned in closer to see better. “Kinda looks... Has anyone told you that spot in your right eye resembles a galaxy of stars?”

Tony was squinting at the small brown spot - having a good, looong look when he noticed Stephen was also studying _his_ eyes. Suddenly they were both held in that gaze.

Tony plunked back down to his original position. “That’s... Huh! So cool! Thought I was just going crazy! Glad it’s a thing!" muttered the engineer in a soft and slightly embarrassed manner. He hoped the heat he felt on his cheeks wasn't something visible to Stephen. Then his voice got a bit more nonchalant again. "Sorry. Right! What were we talking about?”

Stephen blinked and looked at his tea for a few seconds. Tony wasn’t sure, but he thought _he_ saw a bit of a blush on Stephen’s cheeks. It looked like the doctor’s composure was momentarily shaken. _So, okay, good, both of us are flustered. I'm so stupid... _Tony gave himself a facepalm and covered his eyes at the same time, then dragged his hand down to peek at Stephen.

“Uh, hrm, I... It's, uh... No big deal, really,” Stephen stammered a bit, but once he'd taken a deep breath he seemed to recover from... whatever that was. “I was asking those questions of you because I have a hypothesis. _I_ can’t prove it, though, but there are tests.”

“For...??” Tony was a bit worried.

“ADHD,” Stephen replied.

“Oh! Well, _that’s_ better than what I _thought_ you were going to say!” Tony wiped his brow in mock relief. “Surely you jest, though! I mean, I’m successful. And I don’t even glance at squirrels. Never have.”

“Okay, I’m trying to be serious, here,” said Stephen, trying not to smile, but not managing well. “I have witnessed times when you hyper-focus, too. Not many people know that’s also a thing in this developmental disorder,” said the sorcerer. “An ADHD brain lacks transmitters to the part of the brain that helps a person carry out a task, or change over from one task to another. Neurotypical brains also have filters: therefore they have better control over showing or hiding emotions, they can better self-monitor how loud they speak, and know better when to think something and when to say what they’re thinking out loud. ADHD brains may know perfectly well _how_ to do something, can be fully _capable_ of fulfilling the task, and even _want_ or _need_ to do the task. But they can find it very difficult to execute the very action needed to start the task. And it’s especially difficult when the task is disagreeable, boring or stressful. Any questions so far?”

“I’m... I’m...” Tony wasn’t sure. “Never mind. Keep going. Continue the interrogation.”

“An ADHD brain lacks dopamine more so than a neuro-typical brain. When there is something you _like_ to do, that activity provides your mind with more dopamine than if you were doing a boring task. Dopamine is responsible for pleasure and reward. You may now have an idea why it can be so difficult to feel motivated to do something if it’s something you dislike. Dopamine also controls impulses, helps you regulate your emotions, and so on.”

“Oh boy, am _I_ impulsive,” said Tony in wonder. “I mean, not as much as when I used to drink.” He made the universal drinking sign, pretending to be holding a glass and miming bringing the glass to his mouth.

“That’s another possible indicator of ADHD, or other mental health issues,” said Stephen. “A lot of people with ADHD self-medicate. Alcohol, of course, numbs the feelings of frustration and anger. Some people are addicted to sex, or gambling, or exercising too much to keep that dopamine high. Some do very risky things....” Stephen bent his head towards Tony, as he cleared his throat, and was looking directly at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Me???” Tony pointed at his chest with a questioning expression. “OOOH! Oh! I see. You mean like flying around in a metal suit with repulsers and such?” Tony ask, shrugging. “You may have something there.”

“The reason people with ADHD are much more likely to do those types of things is because the adrenaline or endorphins or cortisone helps to create more dopamine,” explained Dr. Strange. “Driving like an asshole, getting pumped full of adrenaline, for example,” he intoned, and then held up his hands and stated, “Risky.”

“Holy crap, Gandalf,” Tony managed to get out. He hadn’t really focused on Stephen’s hand so closely before. He knew they shook, but somehow he had not seen the scarring. Tony remembered some of his own car accidents. And tinkering accidents. And heavy machinery accidents... And other accidents. “Well, I’m glad _you’re_ alive, Stephen. Otherwise I’d be drinking this coffee alone.”

“It would’ve been my loss, I assure you,” said Stephen. “You know, I _should_ have died in that car accident. But somehow, here I am, in relatively good company.”

“Well. Wow... This... Information you gave me... It’s a lot to take in,” Tony hoped he didn’t appear completely gobsmacked. He placed his hands on either side of his head. “But this makes so much sense!” he nearly shouted. He gripped the table. “And everyone thought I was just a spoiled rich kid who got away with shit because I was Howard Stark’s son! As if I had no ‘real’ consequences for me... And then when I became immersed in my work and... Of course I love what I do, and I’m really good at what I do...”

“I suppose having a lot of money would prevent anyone, to a certain extent, from having to do things they aren’t good at,” said Stephen, thoughtfully. “I had a lot of money. I can totally relate. You and I, we can also afford to employ people to do tasks that would take away energy and time from us: a housekeeper, a gardener, a driver. They are paid to do the things you and I would put off doing because of our ADHD. If we didn’t have those people, we’d never get anything done! Case in point, Tony: you have a personal assistant.”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.? Yeah,” agreed the engineer. “I don’t think I’m following you.”

“She’s there so you don’t have to worry about forgetting anything. An ADHD brain has trouble with short term memory,” he pointed out. “But because of your gift, you created an A.I. to help you with that.”

“_Gift_?” Tony accidentally spat a little. He felt overwhelmed and wasn’t sure he liked the concept of having a learning disability. He felt apprehension rising in him. His chest felt tight. “How is ADHD a gift??”

“Now, remember, Tony,” said the sorcerer with a caring voice. “I don’t know this for sure. But if you get tested and it turns out you _do_ have ADHD, instead of thinking of it as an affliction, think of it as an advantage,” said Stephen looking over his teacup at Tony again. He saw Tony’s jaw start to clench and his eyebrows glower.

It was then that Stephen, with a look of concern, reached out to Tony and placed a hand on Tony’s forearm, grasping it gently with his long fingers. “Tony,” he said in a very soothing, even baritone. “Whether you do, or don’t have ADHD, it’ll be okay.”

Tony was startled at first by the warm touch on his arm. His first reaction was to flinch. But then he felt and heard the compassion in Stephen’s voice, and some of his agitation left him. Just... Oozed out of him... Like a cool breath of wind in the summer displacing the heat. He was full of wonder at this, but also felt a small stab of of some uncomfortable emotion he couldn’t quite understand at that moment. _Because men don’t touch each other in conversation,_ was Tony’s flustered thought. _Or rarely, unless they’re like brothers or something._ Simultaneously he wondered where the heck that thought came from. Tony wasn’t sure he was that close to Dr. Strange, yet. But yet the hand stayed that way. And Tony wasn’t upset or angry anymore.

“Uh... Sorry, Stephen,” Tony said, gently removing Stephen’s clasp on his arm so he could grab his coffee mug again. "It’s just I feel a bit more secure with both hands gripping my cup at the moment.” Because this was somehow making him feel a little claustrophobic, for some reason. Stephen's gaze made him feel like he was a specimen under a microscope.

"No need to apologize, Tony," said Stephen. "I was a bit relentless with the questioning. I could've gone about this with less... enthusiasm. And I should have remembered the most important thing I wanted to tell you."

"What would that be?"

"Most times, people with ADHD feel down on themselves," he said quietly, looking firmly into Tony's eyes. "I mean after years of being told you don't care, you're sloppy, you're lazy, and you're stupid... It becomes easier and easier to believe." 

Tony was again surprised at how much insight Stephen seemed to have about him. "Well, yeah. And then after a while, you just give up and _don't_ give a fuck, _for real_!" he snarked. "Because no matter how hard you try to do right by people, it never seems to work."

"Well, _if_ you have ADHD," Stephen said in a his soothing voice. "Would you not want to know? Because then you could get support. And you'd know you _weren't_ all those things people said you were. It would mean you're a _good_ person, a harder worker than some. And here's the biggest thing... It wasn't something _bad_ that you did_ on purpose_. I know for a fact that you are not anywhere _near_ being an idiot, and you sure as hell care. You have a _reason_ for what you assumed were your shortcomings."

There was a comfortable silence. And this time, Tony put _his_ hand on Stephen's forearm and squeezed it. “Thank you Stephen. You must be a People Whisperer.” He took a large gulp of coffee and looked over his mug at the sorcerer. He cleared his throat. “Okay. I’m more than ready. Tell me. How, exactly, is ADHD a good thing?”

“Well, think about it. The world needs people who don’t think in straight lines,” said Stephen. His smile had gone, but his eyes were intense, and his voice was uplifting. “Neuro-typical brains can get quite boring and predictable. The world _needs_ people with lightning-speed thought processing. We need those ‘outlandish’ ideas. ADHD brains usually come up with unique troubleshooting and problem solving, simply because they see things from a unique perspective. I personally believe, with all my heart, it is not a detriment, but an advantage. But if you don’t know you have it, you can’t work with it. So it can _seem_ like a curse.” Stephen sent Tony a link from his phone. “You can probably Google more, but here is a good link.”

“Thanks, let me have a quick look.” Tony selected the link and glanced at the list. He skimmed, reading the title and main points to himself.

**17 Things to Love About ADHD**  
\- The Drive of ADD Hyperfocus  
\- Resilience  
\- A Sparkling Personality  
\- Generosity  
\- Ingenuity  
\- A Strong Sense of Fairness  
\- Willingness to Take a Risk  
\- Spontaneity  
\- A Great Sense of Humor!  
\- Constant Surprises  
\- Romantic  
\- Engaging Conversational Skills  
\- Compassion  
\- Persistence  
\- Creativity  
\- A Different Perspective  
\- Contagious Motivation

Tony looked at Stephen, “Well, at least there’s _some_ good news!” he said, feeling his mind was, as Stephen had put it, reeling in all directions. Thoughts were just spinning around in his head. “Let me know if smoke starts coming out of my ears. How is it that you know all of this?” asked Tony. “Is it because you’re a doctor?”

Stephen smiled and tapped his fingers against his teacup. “Partially. But... ” he paused dramatically. “The reason I thought _you_ might have ADHD, is because I knew the signs. Because I’m certain that is another trait that we both have in common.”

Tony’s head snapped up at Stephen, wide-eyed with surprise. “Stop!”

Stephen nodded, “It takes one to know one,” he shrugged and took another sip of his tea. “I used to hyperfocus on being a neurosurgeon. That’s what made me the best. I always asked for the most ‘interesting’ cases, because they were new, and challenging, and feeding me my dopamine. Now I’m equally engrossed with magic.“

“I see that,” replied Tony, looking at Stephen’s robes.

“This may sound odd, Tony,” said the sorcerer. “But I thank the universe for taking my surgeon hands away from me. That accident is what made it possible to become who I am today.”

And that was how Tony and Stephen got to know each other. It was also when Tony knew to go to an educational psychologist and get tested for ADHD. 

But first he wanted to run things by his friends...

🌞🌝🌞🌝🌞

  
A few days after meeting with Stephen, Tony was still thinking about their discussion. After worriedly talking to Pepper and some of his other friends, he wasn’t sure if he was dismayed or relieved that they weren’t surprised to think it was likely that he had Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder.

They all remembered several indicators that he might have ADHD. Times where he was so focused on something he’d forget to eat. Or when he’d suddenly follow an impulse. Or when he’d be distracted. When he had to get something boring or unpleasant done instead of playing in his lab, they observed he’d procrastinate. A lot!

Tony listened to his friends’ testimonials.

“Well... There was that time you said you were gonna go pick us up coffees,” Sam reminded him. “And when you came back _you_ were the only one who had coffee.”

“Oh my gosh, Sam,” exclaimed Tony. “When was that??”

“It was last week,” Sam smiled, patting Tony on the shoulder. “Hey, ADHD is a good explanation. I’d prefer to believe that over you being a jerk for not getting us coffee! Because you’re a really nice dude!”

Rhodey had laughed, and hugged his buddy, “I thought you knew! Is it really that surprising to you? Don’t feel bad, bro! That brain of yours is amazing!” He shook and then clasped Tony’s hand, as though doing secret handshake. “It doesn’t change nothin’.”

Rocket at first didn’t know ADHD was Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder. He scratched behind an ear, “Well, see, I thought it was just the caffeine you humans are always sucking back,” he mused. “But now that you’ve described it, I can see what you’re saying. I have seen you just go-go-go sometimes and then it would be hard to tear you away. Like you were obsessed with it and you’d get reeeal grumpy real fast if someone broke your concentration.”

Banner had said, “Well, yeah! That totally explains why you’re, uh, well, you’re like a Labrador Retriever. But hey, _everyone_ loves a Retriever. They get so excited about everything! They want to play and they make you laugh. Sometimes you even make us run around trying to find you! You’re always so friggin’ energetic!” And then, much to Tony’s chagrin, Banner attempted to imitate a Lab by jumping around and on furniture, and flying from one room to another. Tony finally had to cover his eyes when the hybrid Hulk/Banner started wiggling his butt and “wagging” his arm as an imitation tail.

“ENOUGH! I get it, Banner!” Tony had hollered.

He had brought up the subject while on a hologram conference with King T’Challa of Wakanda. He had said he knows people with ADHD, wouldn’t be surprised if Tony had ADHD, and it isn’t a bad thing, really. It just _is_. “It’s like hair colour, or how tall someone is. It doesn’t mean _you_ are your ADHD, it does not define you, Tony. ADHD is just a small _part_ of who you are.”

Wanda had gone on to provide Tony with some celeb names like Jim Carrey, sports figures like Josh Freeman, the actress Zooey Deschanel, the golfer Bubba Watson, and Windows inventor Bill Gates. “Those are a few people in the present day. In the past there was Albert Einstein, Virginia Woolf, possibly Leonardo da Vinci, Agatha Christie, and Henry Ford.” she explained, “They didn’t have testing back then, obviously, but their behaviors described in media records, old films, and memoirs do seem to indicate they had many of the behavioural characteristics.”

She crossed her arms when saw Tony looking worried.

“Don’t look so down, buddy! You can be a successful person,” she encouraged Tony. “I mean, duh! You’re _already_ successful, Tony! Look at what you’ve made of yourself! You’ve come a long way. It’s made you who you are.”

Pepper, as always, was the biggest sweetheart. “So what, Tony?” she shrugged. “It doesn’t change anything. You had it your whole life, the only thing that’s changed is that you can get tested for it now because you know it’s a possibility. And it doesn’t change the way I feel about you! Because it’s always been a part of you, and I like every single part of you the way you are.”

Peter Parker had smiled the biggest smile. “Mr. Stark, do you realize how cool it is that you have ADHD?”

Tony looked confused. “How so, underoos?”

”Well... It makes me feel awesome about myself!” Peter had explained. “Mr. Stark, _I_ have ADHD, too!”

Tony’s mouth hung open for a moment. 

“It’s not quite as extreme after the spider bit me, though.” Peter positively beamed. “Don’t you get it, Mr. Stark? You have ADHD and look at _you_! Look at all you’ve accomplished! You are such a talented, generous gus. It makes _me_ feel better about myself knowing that _you_, my _hero_, a guy I look up to, can be successful, and loved. It gives me hope, Mr. Stark.”

Tony was still speechless when he pulled the boy close to him and gave him a firm hug.

Sure enough, after Tony’s testing was done, he was officially proven to have broad spectrum ADHD. He had distractibility, hyperactivity, hyperfocus, and impulsiveness. He was already being treated for anxiety and depression, so when his psychiatrist got the results from Tony’s educational psychologist, she was optimistic.

“This is wonderful news, Tony. I mean, in the sense that now we know that your anxiety and depression were secondary! It was your ADHD that likely the symptoms of depression and anxiety! Now we can figure out some options together from a different perspective!”

“How so, Dr. Robinson?” Tony had asked.

“Well, not knowing the ‘why’ makes it tougher to figure out what caused the depression and anxiety. Now we understand _why_ you couldn’t keep up sometimes in school, or _why_ you’d have trouble regulating your emotions, or being too loud and not being aware of it, _why_ you have issues with sleep patterns,” she explained. “These and other behaviours you exhibited may have made life awkward for you as a child, sometimes much more difficult. Now we know that if we treat your ADHD, your anxiety and depression may actually decrease!”

Tony still felt worried, but every single person he had spoken to had either been his friends or his health providers. Nobody else seemed worried about it...

”I recommend you see your psychologist or maybe he can refer you to a psychologist specializing in Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder. Keep a journal of sorts, so you can go over your concerns, emotions, and thoughts with the psychologist.”

She put a reassuring hand on Tony’s shoulder. “Finding out why something isn’t working properly is the first step to managing it,” she said.

“It’s not curable?” Tony was irritated. “I can only _manage_ it?”

“Some people find that they just need some strategies to better manage their ADHD symptoms. There are some online games that can help your brain make new neuro-pathways to improve your short term memory. Others find that they need medication because meds can help provide an ADHD brain with the correct chemicals that need to be balanced out. Studies do show much better results with behavioural therapy _combined_ with some medication. Usually you can improve after increasing dosages - up to a point. Sometimes the medications heighten anxiety or cause ticks if dosages get too high.”

She looked at Tony, as if waiting to see if he had questions, but the engineer nodded.

“What we want, Tony, is _balance_. You want the amount of medication that helps you but doesn’t produce detrimental symptoms. And some people don’t need either meds or therapy. They’ve already lived with their ADHD so long that they’ve figured out and made their own strategies to help themselves because they had the help at a much younger age. With my help, and your psychologist’s support, we can help you come to an informed decision to figure out what’s best for you, Tony.”

“So, I have a say in this, too, doc?” Tony asked. “If a medication makes me too jumpy, I can ask for the dosage to be lowered?”

“Yes,” she replied. “You may wish to try a different family of medication altogether, if that happens. I’ll walk with you through your decisions. But, as I mentioned, your doctors don’t want to over-medicate you just to ‘fix’ your distractibility, impulsiveness, or other symptoms. You need to feel healthy on the meds. If it’s the correct medication, it won’t act like a stimulant. That is _so_ important. It’s also important to me that you are in control of your own life, since in your younger years you probably felt you had very little control.”

Tony made another appointment with Dr. Robinson for the following month so he could first see his psychologist and talk about an ADHD therapist and possibly get an ADHD coach. And also to wrap his head around everything that he had found out and think about what to do next.

Now he understood why his father, some family members, and even other adults - like his teachers - would accuse him of being sloppy, about not caring when it was the ADHD all along! It didn’t make him feel any less angry at them, but the “why” was answered. He felt a lot less angry with himself! So many answers for so many things!

It occurred to Tony that Jarvis had been his own father’s assistant, and fortunate enough to have plenty of money to throw at problems. Howard Stark drank, too. Self-medicated. Had affairs. Got into physical fights. Had a very, very bad temper. Tony had been driving and had to pull over. “Jesus Jesus Jesus!!!” he hollered when he’d gotten out of his car on the side of the highway. He made sure he’d pulled right off the shoulder and part way into the drainage ditch. “JESUS SHUT THE FRONT DOOR!!! Howard, you big hypocrite! _YOU_ had ADHD!” 

When he’d calmed down enough, he clambered back into his car, and laughed. “You _FUCKER_!” he hollered and then careful drove back on to the highway. _Honward must have really hated me! If he hated himself, and saw himself in me, of course he’d always be a jerk to me!! He laughed again. He couldn’t wait to tell Pepper. And Stephen. Probably Banner and Rhodey. _

Tony felt more complete, like a piece of puzzle was missing and now that missing piece was found. _And it fits like a fucking glove! _There were a lot of emotions to go through for a time, to process what he had learned about himself.

_If only someone had figured this out when I was a kid!_ He thought to himself. _All the grief I put up with... How I was somehow different from most everyone else. Probably explained why most of my peers kind of avoided me, or beat me up. I beat myself up, too! Maybe my dad would’ve treated me better. Maybe I wouldn’t have felt like such a damn idiot all the time. I wouldn’t have believed them all when they told me I was a pain in the ass or a spoiled brat. All I needed was a little help and a little understanding, but instead I felt worthless!_

_Well, not any-fucking-more!_

That’s when Tony decided to meet with Stephen to ask more about ADHD.

After that point, the two men frequently went out somewhere to discuss things in privacy, such as on a walk, or in a restaurant booth. And Dr. Strange was very resourceful. He knew of some good online books and also had a couple of self-help books he had read that he said he’d loan to Tony.

“And again, if you have any questions or need someone to talk to, Tony,” he pointed at himself. “I’m here for you.”

“Thank goodness you‘re my sponsor, Stephen,” he said jokingly during one of their walks. “Do I have to go to any meetings where I have to get up in front of people and say: ‘Hi. My name is Tony. And I have ADHD.”

“Hi, Tony,” intoned Stephen. “If you really want to you can, but you’re already pretty busy, aren’t you?”

“Maybe I can send Happy to a meeting to record it,” said Tony with a smirk.

Occasionally, Pepper would gratefully ask Dr. Strange to come have supper with her and Tony, because she wanted to understand what Tony was going through and get some answers, as well.

Likewise, some members of The Avengers would sometimes ask Stephen questions to help them figure out what to say or do when Tony was around them. It gave them perspective and a better understanding of why Tony would do things - or not _do_ things. They told Tony they’d be there if he needed anything, assured him they weren’t going anywhere, and that they wanted to be there for him.

“You don’t stop being friends with someone who finds out they’re diabetic,” Steve Rogers told him. “They take medication to control sugar or insulin levels. It’s no different than someone who would take medication to help balance brain chemicals. No reason to get all weirded out.”

Tony was going to be forever grateful to Stephen for this one. That’s how Tony and Dr. Strange became friends. They had similar childhoods, it turned out. And Stephen had already been through what Tony was going through right now.

_And there’s nothing like a friend who “gets you,”_ thought Tony. _No judgement. Just acceptance and understanding._

So when Stephen had hugged Tony after a visit one day, Tony reciprocated. It was a good minute, with some manly smacking of backs!

“Ya know, Stephen,” said Tony pulling back and putting a firm hand on the wizard’s shoulder. “You’re the nicest asshole I’ve ever met!”

Stephen’s eyes were laughing, “And you, my friend, are still very much a douchebag. But I like you anyway.“

“Good talk,” said Tony, waving goodbye as he was leaving.

They then went their separate ways from the coffee shop.


	8. Allies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers get together at the compound twice a month to discuss plans for defending planet Earth from the inevitable Thanos. Star Lord and his Guardians of The Galaxy, Thor and Brunnhilde the Valkyrie, and Captain Marvel have been working on building alliances and treaties with other worlds. Dr. Strange and his fellow sorcerers are also keeping watch and are finding ways with magic that will help in combat. 
> 
> Dr. Strange is still keeping a lot of information to himself, Wong, and a select few at Kamar-Taj. They’re experienced with, shall we say, having things off the epicenter-on the pinnacle-at Ground Zero of incredulity. He isn’t sure he wants to tell Tony because the engineer might think he’s lost his mind. Even if he does tell Tony something, he feels the Avengers may need to be kept a little less informed!
> 
> Tony Stark has Dr. Strange over to the compound to check out a new medical prototype for monitoring blood sugar levels.

Tony had requested Stephen to come for an “official” visit to the new Avengers office and compound area to check out the new lab. “Oh! And before I forget! The Avengers are all meeting again next Wednesday to discuss the B-3T-P protocol so we can plan for the Purple Prodigal Punisher in 2023. But I have this side-project...”

“The... B3TP?” asked Dr. Strange. “What’s That?”

“‘Beating Thanos To The Punch,’” replied Tony. “Although it could also mean ‘Bring 3 rolls of Toilet Paper.’ Will you be able to make it to the meeting on Wednesday?”

“Yes, I will definitely be there, thank you, Tony,” Dr. Strange had responded cordially, choosing to ignore the toilet paper comment. “I’m sorry I didn’t make the last meeting. Now what was this side-project you mentioned?”

“Yes, it’s something I’m working on separately and simultaneously... When the B3TP project is driving me nuts,” he explained. “I think better when I’m tinkering on something else. Anyway, it’s a microscopic prototype tailored for diabetics.”

“Well, I’m flattered that you thought of me... But I need to remind you that I am - or was - a neurosurgeon. You say the device is purposed for diabetics? Not my specialty, I’m afraid.“

“Aw, c’mon, doc,” said Tony, hoping he was using his best disarming charm. “You’ve got a photographic memory! You’re a genius! Like me!”

The engineer heard an amused sigh from the sorcerer on the other end of the call.

“It’s _eidetic_, not photographic. There’s a difference. Anyway, I’m sure I can review and then brainstorm some hematology and endocrinology with you.” Dr. Strange said after a moment of silence.

“I’d really appreciate it,” said Tony. 

“We’re professional colleagues. Why not? But I can also provide you some names of doctors who are the cream of the crop in the diabetic research field.”

“Excellent, Dr. Strange!” Tony replied. “For a minute there I thought I was gonna need to use even more flattery.”

“Nope, that was sufficient,” Stephen said, wryly. “As always, it will be nice to see you, Tony. You said tomorrow, at 3pm, correct?”

“Correct, 3pm. It will be good to see you, too,” said Tony. “See ya!”

🌞🌖🌞

The next day the two of them entered the lab together, already discussing Tony’s idea.

“Thank you for coming, Dr. Strange. I really want your input on this. You are my go-to guy when it comes to anything medical. Sure Banner’s a groundbreaking doctor, too. He and I already discussed formulas and cellular and atom structures to do with glucose and insulin. But I need your input on the application and any ideas or concerns you have. You’re definitely getting your name in the credits if this works out.”

Stephen looked hesitant and a little guarded. “You’re sure you didn’t want me here for another reason?”

“Like - ?” Tony asked, appearing genuinely puzzled, but also a little bit pink in his face.

“You and I had a discussion about the Time Stone and why I gave it to Thanos. Honestly, I’m a bit leery about meeting with The Avengers for the first time,” said Stephen. “They need to understand, as _you_ already do, that I am bound by the laws of Time. I can’t go into detail about the Future and if they try to bully me into confessing something...”

“I get ya, doc,” replied Tony, nodding. “If you could arrive about 30 minutes after the team conference starts, that should give me enough time to brief them. I’ll let them know there will be no discussion on the subject. I’ll just repeat what you said regarding the laws you’re expected to follow, as it’s your sworn duty to protect timelines and the Time Stone and so on. If you still get harassed outside of that room, talk to me, okay?”

“Thank you, Mr. Stark,” said Stephen gratefully. The sorcerer took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “I would appreciate that. I would also prefer, at this time, that I am _not_ asked to join The Avengers.” Stephen looked sideways at Tony.

The engineer noticed the ‘I’m-not-going-to-put-up-with-BS’ look he was given. ”Ah. Um, hang on a sec, Doc,” said Tony as he grabbed his Stark Industries tablet. Tony had allotted time for that exact thing on his calendar. He hastily typed in the words **‘**_**Do NOT’**_ in front of ‘_Ask Stephen if he wants to join Avengers’_ on the meeting agenda. “There! I’m throwing that into the agenda right after telling The Avengers the part about not asking for details on the Future.”

“It’s nothing personal. The Avengers are _valuable_ protection, although primarily for physical threats,” said Dr. Strange. “And as you once said to your young protegé, we may very well need someone to -“

“Protect the Wizards?” finished Tony.

“Yes! However - and I feel honoured to tell you this, Mr. Stark - I want to be the first to tell you that, as a world-wide effort, the Masters of the Mystic Arts would like to help with all of _our_ resources in extreme cases such as with Thanos. It’s still under discussion, and we’d like you to enter those discussions toward a purpose of creating an _alliance_, of sorts.”

Tony was stunned. “Oh my God! How did you... _When_-?“

”Oh, I’ve been in talks with several Masters over the last couple of months,” said the sorcerer with a hint of glee in his voice. “Even though the Sanctums and Kamar-Taj need to be unique and separate from the Avengers and S.H.I.E.L.D. - or other agencies - it would seem to be in both our best interests, and Earth’s best interests, if we were to become allies.”

Tony put his fists up to either side of his head and mimicked his mind exploding. “I... This is... I have to write a speech so I’m not a stammering idiot at the Avengers meeting! Dr. Strange,” started Tony. “This is _huge_! I’m not sure what to say, but... Here!” he surprised Stephen with a warm embrace. “This means a lot to me, my friend!”

This time Stephen was speechless. After clearly being startled at first, Tony felt the sorcerer’s shoulder and back muscles relax as the hug was returned. “You’re welcome. It’s really the least I could do!”

Tony pulled away quickly and took a step back from Stephen. “Why? This isn’t because you feel, you know, guilty about... Something... Right? I know what you told me, that day you came over to my house. I was kept alive for a _purpose_, and I paraphrase: ‘I figure prominently in the last battle against Thanos.’ But I’m not _supposed_ to know what that purpose is,” continued Stark, concentrating on some tools and papers on his desk. He again locked eyes with Stephan again, “Am I?”

“No, unfortunately. But I’m sure you have an idea already. And I find it _very_ difficult not to be completely forthcoming,” said Stephen in a quiet voice, once again tensing up. “But I don’t have a choice. The risks are just too high. And those dreams I keep getting, I’m still analyzing them with Wong. But if anything changes and I _can_ tell you what’s going to happen, I will do so. I swear it!”

“I’m not sure I want to know, anyway,” said Tony, putting up his hands as if in surrender. “But maybe we can discuss things as they come, on a need-to-know basis?”

“That sounds completely reasonable,” said Stephen, hoping his face didn’t appear too relieved. “Thank you for understanding.” _I want so much to tell you that even if you _do_ die... There may be a way to bring you back! _

“So, may I?” Tony asked, his hands holding up the memory stick for Dr. Strange.

“Yes, yes! Please show me your technology,” said Stephen. “I’m intrigued.”

“Thank you! I want this little nano-gadget to be able to monitor the function of the pancreas and blood sugar levels in case it’s not producing enough insulin. Or in case the blood sugar is too low and the insulin has to be lowered to bring up the levels of glucose in the blood.” He showed a screenshot of a magnified image from a microscope. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., please play the video!”

“Sure thing, Boss,” responded the A.I. “Here it goes...”

A floating hologram screen opened and footage was running, showing a small device being syringed into one of the capillaries inside a host’s pancreatic duct.

“The prototype was in my body. I’m not diabetic, mind you.” He pointed out the normal blood readings on the screen. “But I can make it run through diagnostics so you could see how it _could_ respond in a diabetic crisis.”

Stark watched the wizard’s face for some kind of reaction. He couldn’t perceive much emotion, but the engineer perceived that Dr. Strange’s eyes just barely narrowed as he watched the screen with intense concentration. The sorcerer brought up a scarred hand to his chin, smoothing his goatee whilst watching the screen.

“Well, that looks like a brilliant idea, Mr. Stark,” said the doctor. “What happens if...”

“Tony,” he interrupted Dr. Strange. “Mr. Stark was my dad. I’m completely... _Not_ him.”

“Very well, Tony,” nodded Dr. Strange. “I was about to ask about the risks of the technology malfunctioning.”

“Malfunctioning???” Tony looked like the doctor had grown a third eye.

“It’s not that I don’t have faith in your abilities, Mr... Er, I mean Tony,” said Stephen, a bit flustered. “It’s just one of the first things medical lawyers will ask you. Is there liability and if so, is it covered?”

“I’ll make it so it _doesn’t_ malfunction. It’s not ready to hit the market, yet, Dr. Strange,” explained Tony. “It needs to be tested for a couple years at least. Maybe three. And then continuing into 10 year research. Stark Industries is not known for malfunctions. At least, I haven’t heard anything. Why? Have you heard something?”

“Well, I’m glad to hear it’s still in a testing phase. But what kind of testing?” Dr. Strange looked concerned. His eyes seemed to flash with anger. Tony was puzzled as he observed the sorcerer taking a deep breath, presumably to collect himself. Dr. Strange cleared his throat, “Do you test on animals?”

“Oh! No no no,” said Tony, also shaking his head ‘no’ and waving his hands. “I believe in _ethical_ testing. Animals can’t tell me they want to try testing or not. What we do is alert the public over social media with an announcement to offer an experimental medical treatment. It’s free, they understand the risks, they sign a waiver, they are under strict medical scrutiny for the first several test periods, however long the testing will take. All the while they’d be staying in one of our hospital research facilities with doctors and nurses available 24/7... We have a control group, we have a placebo, and the testing is double-double blind. We’re thorough around here. As a son learning what not to do by observing my dad and my dad’s company, Stark Industries learned from past mistakes. _I’ve_ learned from our mistakes. My own mistakes, too.”

Tony brought Stephen a Stark Industries tablet and placed it next to the sorcerer on the table.

“I challenge you, Doc, to check with any neutral and impartial entities to see if Stark Industries has had any litigation, complaints, or recalls in the last 10 years. I challenge anyone. Well, except for when I was stabbed in the back that time by someone I trusted. Well, okay more than once, but I meant Stark Industries-related...”

Dr. Strange began rubbing one of his temples. “I’m not certain I have the time to check with the Better Business Bureau or Yelp to see how well your various products are functioning or how they work. I’m a very busy man.” Stephen silently cursed himself when he saw the stunned engineer blink rapidly, momentarily raise his eyebrows and close his eyes. 

Tony bit down on his bottom lip. His temper rose and he felt his face go red. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. He found himself grinning sardonically, because in his head he was saying, _Wow. What a prick! Sad thing is he probably doesn’t even know he’s a dick. _When the anger cooled a bit, Tony made a poker face and crossed his arms. He looked at the doctor, opened his mouth to fire back, but found he was unable to think of anything to say. Happened sometimes when he got angry: sometimes his mind just had the equivalent of a paper jam.

“I’m... I’m _so_ sorry about what just came out of my mouth!” Dr. Strange looked down at his feet and put his fingers to the bridge of his nose momentarily. When he looked back up at Tony, he looked mortified, and shook his head apologetically. “I’m still working on... My attitude. It has truly been another exhausting week, but that’s _no_ excuse to have a little mood swing, when you’ve been nothing but kind to me. Since Kathmandu, I realize I am not the center of the universe. But sometimes I slip back into that lesser version of myself. And I can be a real ass.”

This self-admonishing confession caught Tony off guard. _Okay, so he _does_ know he sounded like a prick_. The engineer wasn’t sure how to feel now. _Well, I’m human, too,_ he thought, although it wasn’t that long ago when he’d have a lot of alcohol, just so he wouldn’t notice “Huh. Well, as you well know, _I_ can be quite the douchebag. You were there when I was being one! I appreciate the apology, Dr. Strange. It’s actually quite refreshing. I really hate it when people don’t admit when they might have gone a bit too-“

“Stephen,” interrupted the doctor.

“Hm?”

“Call me Stephen,” repeated the sorcerer. “Since we’re being honest. Besides, it will bring my ego down to earth a bit.”

“What will?” asked Tony.

“Not being addressed as ‘doctor.’ If we’re on a first-name basis, I am reminded I don’t really need that title anymore. For some reason when someone calls me ‘doctor,’ I occasionally forget myself and get this silly ego boost. As though I need anything to boost my already over-inflated ego. Let’s even the playing ground. Let’s just... Let me be Stephen with you.”

_‘Let me be Stephen with you,’ says the Wizard. _Tony sensed how personal that was for Stephen to express. He saw Stephen turn a red around the ears and cheeks. _I seem to remember seeing the doctor as much more reserved and private around pretty much anyone he was with._

“Ya know, Doc-_I mean_, Stephen. I think, at one time, our egos were both _very_ healthy! Like on vitamins or something. I’m working on that part of myself, too. Stop me if I’m wrong, here, but I think we both realize there are people around us that we really care about and don’t want to hurt. _I_ need them, anyway. That took a long time to admit to myself!” He took a dramatic stance, as though on a stage, one hand on his hip and the other as if beseeching to an audience in front of him. “I, Tony Stark, need people!” He stretched out his arm and spread his fingers.

Stephen grinned at Tony’s antics, “Seems we have our past selves in common, then,” the doctor’s green-blue eyes were smiling. But then he seemed a bit more wistful. “Seems we’re both used to doing things on our own, because we’re so used to not depending on anyone but ourselves.”

“Wow!” Tony looked a bit taken aback. He had just realized how personal they’d become with each other. “Now _that_ was a conversation!”

“Did it make you feel uncomfortable to talk so directly?” Stephen asked, and he shrugged. “Because I didn’t have issue with anything said.”

The engineer shrugged. “Oh, yeah, no problem here,” he replied. “Though, I know it’s a thing with me. Usually Pepper gives me the elbow-to-the-ribs if I’m jibber-jabbering too much.”

“Perhaps you’re a closet Introvert. They like the deep conversations,” offered Stephen.

“Oh? Is that what you call TMI?” grinned Tony. “I always thought it was called ‘over-sharing.’”

“Oh, it _is_!” Stephen had nodded amiably. His mouth wasn’t smiling, but the the eyes made Tony think this was a guy who frequently laughed on the inside. “But as a Certified Introvert, I actually prefer that over cheap small talk anytime. We don’t like to waste time talking about the weather or the price of gasoline.”

“Here’s to Oversharing,” Tony said and had taken a sip of his coffee. “By the way, Stephen, what forms do I need to fill out to become a Certified Introvert? Is there an online course?”

This time Tony was pleased to have gotten a pleasant chuckle out of the sorcerer. He had asked if Stephen wanted some coffee. Stephen had said he preferred tea.

They had further discussed Tony’s prototype, and mutually decided that it would be a better fail-safe to just have an alarm send a message to a diabetic person’s cell phone if their insulin or blood sugar was getting too high. There was less liability that could fall on Stark Industries as this alarm put the onus on the person using the device to take care of the problem.

”And here are a few doctor’s names and contact information,” said Stephen, as he produced a list on a piece of parchment out of thin air.

There was the discussion that the blood monitoring system could easily have an app associated with it, and Tony had suggested making it available on watches. If a cell phone was lost, the settings and alerts could still go their desk top or laptop communications, and it could be set to appear on someone else’s device as well. It would be for people who couldn’t have a therapy dog, or for children whose parents would get the alarm, or for those with memory issues. The battery on the tiny device actually took microscopic amounts of nutrients in the blood stream to power itself perpetually, so it would be rare to stop working. 

“So Version 1.0 would be used as a microscopic device anchored to the pancreas and have an app synced with it,” Tony clarified. “Notifications could be received as text messages or emails.”

“And, as you say, Version 2.0 would be developed further?” asked Stephen.

”Yes, and likely also include some type of attachable eye-ware which could be voice-prompted and would offer options to alert an ambulance. The new scientific and medical teams will test and confirm if it’s possible that all awkward devices might be eliminated. I mean some devices can detect a fall or impact, but it might save regular Joe and Jane some ambulance and hospitalization costs, and should also save money and time for hospitals and EMTs if they are reminded or warned that they need to check their blood sugar.”

”That would be something if patients and their doctors or loved ones are notified _before_ someone has a medical emergency!” Stephen sounded impressed. “Preventing the need for an ambulance or hospital stay could make the entire system more efficient... Less crowding and more beds and rooms available, doctors and nurses not being overwhelmed as often... Now _that_ would be amazing!” 

“I gotta see about bringing the price down, too. I need to contact someone on how there could be coverage, or maybe I could be a sponsor and wrangle others. Maybe there could be a grant or something. Lots of options, there. I wish universal health care would become a thing, because that would go a long way with this gadget and software.”

”Yes, I’m usually scratching my head about that,” agreed Stephen, sighing. “Most countries have it, and it’s successful. But then many countries also have gun control.”

And then they just fell to talking about everything and nothing. Pizza was ordered for supper. Stephen noticed how easy-going Tony was, or at least about most subjects. The more passionate the engineer was about something, the more animated and louder he’d get. He was a bit fidgety, always gesturing or holding or moving something with his hands. But despite this, for whatever reason, in doing so he was very attentive when Stephen was speaking. _I wish I could be a little more like Tony. I’m so boring._

Tony noticed that Stephen was a good listener. But sometimes it would feel uncomfortable to just say nothing to each other unless the TV was on. Tony hoped he wasn’t too talkative and tried to pull conversation out of Stephen. It was a little bit of work, but the former surgeon seemed to warm up and open up a bit more as the sky got darker. Stephen seemed, at first, to be a little bit stuck up, but after a while Tony realized the sorcerer might possibly be shy, or at least more reserved. _I wish I was a bit more like Stephen. How does he focus like that? He seems to know just when to speak and when to listen. _

“Wow, it’s nearly 9:30,” said Stephen, noticing a digital time display. The sky was completely dark and city lights were sparkling across the horizon. “I apologize for overstaying.”

“Oh, nah! I’m just starting to get geared up!” laughed Tony. “But if you have a thing tomorrow, don’t feel you have to stay.”

“Do you mind if I leave through a portal?” asked Stephen. “Unless you prefer I leave the lab or your house before doing so. I will respect your wishes. Some people find the portals a touch alarming.”

Tony thought for a moment. “You know what, when you _enter_ the building, maybe if you arrived in the lobby? That way it might be less alarming than suddenly appearing while someone’s chopping vegetables with a sharp knife, or if I’m in here welding or using heavy machinery.”

“Fair enough,” Stephen nodded and began to leave.

“Hang on there, Merlin,” said Tony putting out his hand like a traffic cop. “I don’t think anyone would mind if you _exited_ in front of them. They already know you’re there, so leaving that way isn’t as big a deal.”

Stephen looked surprised and blushed when Tony called him Merlin. But he laughed quietly because he wasn’t insulted. “Are you sure?”

“Fuck, yeah! I totally want to see this portal thing!”

🕛🕐🕑🕒

Later that night, Tony clambered into bed. He pulled up the covers to his chin and attempted to fall asleep. But then his mind started churning.

Pepper had to be out of town on another business trip to take care of some details for some other projects. So he was alone. He hated missing his Pepper. The bedroom was too quiet. He was used to hearing her breathing and feeling her warmth which soothed him to sleep. He grabbed a pillow and hugged it.

The engineer’s mind kept rewinding the conversation he had with Dr. Strange back and forth in his head. And he kept seeing those penetrating eyes. Unsettling, but really, they seemed to be such a light shade of blue or green. And he kept hearing that voice. It was a pleasant baritone. He replayed their conversations that night in his head.

The sorcerer had said,_ “Let me be Stephen with you.”_

Tony had observed the sorcerer several times where the man insisted people call him “Dr. Strange.” Emphasis on the “Doctor.”

_Why should it be any different with me?_ Tony wondered. He turned again on his side and adjusted his pillow. _And why do I find that both flattering and... ?_

_Why am I over-thinking this?_ Tony thought, getting frustrated. He picked up his phone to check the time: 3:24am. _I am not going to sleep, I guess. _He was really tired, though. So then he tried the opposite: he tried to stay awake. That was eventually why he fell asleep.


	9. Dream Interpretation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony’s been having some troubling dreams lately. He’s trying to figure out what’s triggered his abusive, homophobic father and bad memories. Stephen is also in those dreams with him. The sorcerer makes him feel safe in those nightmares, much like Tony feels whenever he is with Stephen when he’s awake. 
> 
> Tony sees his psychologist to see if he can get some answers.

A few nights later, Tony slept beside his Pepper. The warmth of her body, her breathing, and her smell filled his senses and he drifted off to sleep rather quickly.

It felt like hours later when Tony felt a soft hand touching his arm. He made a low questioning sound, surprised that Pepper might be “in the mood” in the middle of the night after three days of exhausting work. He turned over on his back so he could face her in the dark and whispered, “Are you awake?” He whispered very softly, in case she had merely touched him in her sleep. There was no answer.

Tony turned fully onto his opposite shoulder and drew himself near, intending to snuggle closer. He placed his warm hand on her skin beneath the covers and began to move his hand from her hips to her shoulder.

He froze.

_Wait a sec_, thought Tony. _This doesn’t feel right somehow._ He was used to his hand going down from Pepper’s hip into the lovely curve of her waist and then back up again on a gentle incline to her shoulder blade. But right now, there was no curve, no dip, no incline... Everything was kind of a straight line.

And also Pepper wasn’t normally this hairy. Not even in the winter. Or this muscular...

He wondered if he might be dreaming and listened to Pepper’s breathing. Even _that_ didn’t sound right.

Tony felt a the hairs prickle on the back of his neck. He inhaled deeply, confused. He thought he smelled a faint scent of cream sandalwood. Now that was _really_ weird. Pepper’s smell was usually something like Chanel or Yves St. Laurent.

The hand that had loosely landed on him a moment ago moved to Tony’s waist as well. The hand didn’t even seem feminine. It felt larger than Pepper’s and he thought he detected a tremor.

“Tony?” A familiar male voice whispered...

“Gah!” Tony suddenly sat upright in bed, and Pepper was next to him, making a strangled, startled yelp and hurky-jerked right out of a sound sleep. At which point he reacted with another yelp. He had managed to lean too far to one side and slid off the bed onto the floor. He somehow turned a lamp on that had fallen on the carpet sideways and confirmed it was, indeed, Pepper. He knew for sure it was her. He could smell her faint, but familiar, perfume now.

He looked around the room quickly, his eyes darting back and forth and then back up to Pepper. He lifted the blanket to cautiously peer under the bed. Nope, nothing there either.

“Tony!” She whisper-shouted. “What _happened_? Are you okay?”

“Uuuuh... Yeah, hon,” he breathed out, relieved. He realized he was in an awkward position with one foot caught up on the top of the bed in a blanket. The other leg was spreadeagled to the other side, his heal the only part of his foot touching the ground. Likewise, one elbow was on the night table slightly behind him and the opposite hand was on the floor flat, with fingers spread. He realized then that nothing else was touching the floor. He slowly lowered himself down until he was sitting on his bottom, mostly upright. His whole body felt like it was humming from the shock.

“What the -? Was it a bad dream?” she got partially out of bed and offered a hand to help him up.

He accepted her hand and got up successfully, but a little off-balance. He fell back into their bed with her and snuggled his head in the crook of her neck.

“I am so sorry to wake you!” he muttered. “Crazy dream! Dreamt -“ he couldn’t find the words to explain. “I... It was... So weird...”

“Can’t remember, huh?” Pepper smiled warmly at her hus and and pulled closer to him. “Oh my poor sweetie! You can go back to sleep,” she coaxed. “I promise I’ll scare all the bad monsters away.”

“Alright. Thanks, Pepper,” he said, gratefully. “Those monsters won’t stand a chance with you! But don’t be surprised if I wander out of bed to tinker in the lab for a bit or fall asleep in the living room watching movies.”

“I love you Tony Stark!” Pepper declared. “I will stand on guard until you go to sleep again.”

“Stand on guard?” he asked, trying to will his muscles to relax. “For me?? What am I, Canada?”

This brought out a throaty giggle from Pepper who had already closed her eyes.

Tony shut off the lamp and stared up at the ceiling, eyes wide open.

_Did I just dream Dr. Strange was... Why would..? _He was too tired to form a clear question. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to ask the question, never mind get a reply.

_Let me be Stephen with you._

He tossed and turned a bit longer before he felt relaxed enough to feel sleepy again. He had been trying his meditation and relaxation exercises that his psychologist reviewed with him. He was somewhere just below consciousness when he saw himself as a boy in a playground.

He and another little boy were holding hands. His father yanked little Tony’s hand away from the other boy in disgust. “Don’t do that son,” Howard Stern had admonished.“Quit being such a sissy. Boys don’t hold hands.”

“Howard, relax,” he could hear his mom’s voice. “He’s only four years old.”

“Well, _someone_ has to teach him to be a man,” his dad said under his breath.

Then he was in the playroom with some friends for a sleepover on his birthday. One of his friends had given him a trunk of play clothes for make believe.

Charlie had a top hat, Reg wore a crown. A couple other kids were making everyone laugh because they were both inside a gigantically stretched sweater. Both of their heads were in the v-neck. Andrew was pulling to the right with his right arm sticking out of the sleeve, and Terrence was pulling to the left with his left leg sticking out of the opposite sleeve. Someone grabbed a lady’s fancy hat from the open trunk and plunked it on 7-year-old Tony’s head. It had netting and little flowers and butterflies on it. The brim was large and floppy.

Instead of taking it off right away, Tony started prancing around, suddenly feeling silly. He grabbed a matching purse from the rest of the pile and was delighted to find lipstick.

The other boys saw him and their laughter rang out loudly. Some of them were falling backward onto their sleeping bags. Some were jumping up and down, pointing at the spectacle. Someone whistled, pretending to do a cat-call. Tony pandered to this pile of rambunctious children by applying the makeup, rather sloppily.

“How do I look, boys,” he said in a goofy falsetto. He put his hand on his hip and held the purse against his chest. “Has anyone seen my mirror?”

The boys were holding their sides, and one begged, “Stop Tony, you’re making me laugh too hard!”

Tony made his hips waggle as he moved back toward the trunk of clothing. He pretended to preen his hair. A new outburst of cheers arose from the pack.

And then they were suddenly silent. Tony looked at his friends and frowned. A couple of the kids had clomped their hands over their mouths. Charlie had turned quite pale. Tony demanded an explanation. “Hey! What’s wrong with you guys?”

“Anthony Edward Stark,” said a rather displeased voice. Tony looked behind him, and then up, and saw his dad glaring down at him.

His father ripped the hat off of his head. When he saw the lipstick on his son’s face he grabbed Tony’s scruff and pulled him roughly down the hallway into the bathroom.

“What the blazes are you doing, Anthony!?” Stark Senior growled through clenched teeth. “What kind of a party do you think this is? Clean that mess off your face!”

“W-what’s wrong papa? asked Tony weakly. “We were just acting!” Tears stood in his big brown eyes. He began awkwardly trying to wipe his face.

“Let me see that facecloth!” said Howard Stark as he grabbed it from his son. He ran it under hot water, soaped it up, and started aggressively rubbing off the lipstick.

“Ow,” whimpered Tony. “Daddy that hurts!”

“You don’t know the meaning of ‘hurt,’ young man,” he snarled. “Don’t you ever be that stupid in front of your friends again! Do you want to embarrass the entire family??! What if it gets out to everyone that my son, Anthony Stark, prances around like a prissy girl and wears makeup!?! You’ll make us a laughingstock!!”

Tony strained to hold back the tears as the hot cloth harshly cleaned off his skin.

The scene suddenly changed to a schoolyard. His friend, Charlie, had hurt himself and Tony had approached to ask if he was okay. He’d offered a hand to help his friend get up.

The coach shoved 10-year-old Tony away from the other boy who had fallen hard on the track. “He’s fine, Stark. You don’t need to kiss his boo-boos,” snarled his coach, Mr. Bradenshaw. “He’s a man, he just has to get up and walk it off.”

Tony stood back as his friend got up, looking down at his knee full of blood and sand. “It’s okay, Stark,” said his 10-year-old classmate. Tony received a rough pat on his back from the boy, “I didn’t break it, I scratched it.”

The scene with his old coach and his schoolmate at the track melted into a high school house party. “How come you don’t date any girls, Tony?” asked one of the older boys. “You a fag or something?”

“Yeah, you better find a girl who wants to kiss you before you turn gay or something!” Another boy hollered. The entire gang of senior students started laughing and guffawing. 15-year-old Tony felt his face turn red. Several girls in a group eyed him up. He didn’t know why he didn’t feel anything romantic towards girls, yet. One of the older boys handed him a beer. “Here Stark, this will loosen you up.”

The scene fell away and immediately felt much darker and colder. His parents’ home was decorated for Christmas, except for the tree. They were all going to decorate it together on the weekend.

Jarvis, the family butler, had found 21-year-old Tony drinking his father’s brandy in the dark.

“What are you doing in your father’s office, young Mr. Stark?” asked Jarvis, concerned, taking the drink from him. “Did someone tell you already?”

“Tell me what?” asked 21-year-old Tony in a tired voice. He attempted to pick up the glass again, but Jarvis put his gloved hand over the glass.

“Tony, I have some bad news. It’s about your parents,” he looked paler than usual, even a little grey.

“Wow, usually it’s _me_ that’s the bad news,” said Tony, his words not quite slurring. But he saw Jarvis’s complexion and facial expression. “Jarvis, what’s going on?”

“They... Y-your parents...” Jarvis said sadly, with his voice cracking. He paused and tears filled up in his eyes. “They... They died, Tony. I... I’m so sorry!”

Tony’s eyes went wide and he felt sick and faint. He felt the blood leave his face and heard pounding in his ears. And then there was just darkness and he felt like he was falling into a dark abyss...

But then he felt a soft hand on his arm, and when he turned to see who it was, he was suddenly seated in the cafe with Stephen, talking about ADHD. Tony looked into those eyes. Those green-changing-to-blue-changing-to-green eyes... Hypnotic. And Tony felt so... _safe_.

“Stephen?” Tony whispered.

Stephen looked at him, and smiled that disarming smile. “Why are you whispering?”

Suddenly Tony’s father came storming into the cafe. Other people in the cafe suddenly fell silent when they saw this blustering man barge in. Tony’s jaw dropped. “_Dad_!?!”

In an inexplicable rage, Howard Stark approached and yanked Tony’s arm away from Stephen’s wrist in disgust. “Don’t _do_ that, son,” Howard Stern had admonished.“Quit being such a sissy. Boys don’t hold hands.”

Stephen had looked mortified at first, then angry. “Excuse me, sir,” he stood darkly over Tony’s father, accidentally knocking over his chair. “This ‘_boy_’ is a grown adult. And you have no hold over him. You can’t hurt him. You can’t touch him.”

Howard Stark looked like he was going to explode but then Stephen put the same hand that had been on Tony’s arm and placed it on Stark Senior’s head.

Before Tony could say anything, his father turned into a movie projector. The cafe was now a movie theater. There was popcorn on Tony’s lap and he saw Stephen next to him eating his own popcorn. Stephen saw Tony looking agape.

“Tony, watch the movie,” he said and closed Tony’s mouth by pushing up on Tony’s chin, then gently turned his head toward the screen. “You’ll miss the important parts.”

Tony saw the projector playing a movie about himself as a child. His father was screaming at him for something. Present adult-Tony broke out in a cold sweat.

But then the father and the boy changed. The scene went from full colour to black and white, and from urban to rural.

“Just what the hell were you and that boy doing, Howard?” thundered Tony’s grandfather. His dad was a child, maybe 10 years old. Young Stark Senior was trying not to cry.

“I was just sitting with him on the fence watching the horses!” Tony heard Howard say. “That’s all, I swear!”

Howard’s father was a big, meaty man. “NO!” he shrieked at the cowering boy. “You had your arm around him, you... You disgusting little _faggot_!” He sounded drunk and spittle flew out of his mouth when he snarled close to the young boy’s face. He pointed a sausage-like finger at his son and held a beer in the other hand. The beer bottle gave way under the pressure of the man’s anger and cut the his hand, causing him to swear as blood dripped from his hand.

Little Howard Stark appeared so pale and fragile looking at the blood on his father’s hand, alarmed eyes wide in terror. Something snapped in the big man and he walloped the young boy who flew at least a couple feet through the air and landed flat on his back, unmoving. The giant man spat in the direction of his child and wandered back to the house for another beer, cursing about his weakling son.

The credits started rolling as the little boy got up slowly, holding the side of his swelling face. He rocked back and forth, his arms around his leg, his face buried against his knees, trying not to sob too loudly.

Circus music was playing at the end of that scene.

Stephen shook his head as he took a sip of his pop. “Wow, what a sad movie. But it was very relatable.”

Tony was gripping the arms of his chair. His popcorn was all over the floor. “Holy shit! Holy shit!”

He found himself sitting bolt upright in bed yelling, “Holy shit!” He looked around, disoriented. He noticed he was dripping with sweat.

Pepper wasn’t there. The clock said 9:34 am. She must’ve gotten up. Tony grabbed his cellphone to see the date. Okay, it’s Saturday. I’m not late for anything.

He went into the washroom and showered off all the sweat. Took a nice. Long. Hot. Shower. He looked at the mirror.

“I don’t know what the fuck is going on,” he muttered as he observed his sleepy lids and the dark circles under his eyes. He pointed at his reflection. “But you are going to need a nap, today.”

🌕🌖🌗🌘🌑🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘🌑🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘🌑🌒🌓🌔

  
A few more weeks went by. Tony would have similar dreams a couple times a week, especially after he had seen his psychologist or if he’d hung out with Stephen.

After yet another nightmare, Pepper was concerned. Tony let her know that he had a booking. He saw his therapist a few days later.

“So, you mentioned over the phone that you’re having strange lucid dreams and even nightmares?” his psychologist asked him. Tony nodded, and he continued. “Do you feel comfortable discussing them?”

“No, but that’s why I have you, Dr. Peebles,” said Tony. “I can’t talk to anyone else about this shit!”

“Well, yes. That _is_ one reason why we exist,” replied the spectacled gentleman in the other armchair, grinning widely.

“Thanks, doc,” smirked Tony. “I do prefer to _pay_ people to listen to my weirdness. I wouldn’t intentionally make someone hear my ranting for free.”

The doctor smiled amiably. “You mentioned the dreams usually involve a friend of yours?”

“Yes. We’re really good friends. We have a lot in common. We “get” each other. Had much the same type of upbringing, just in different ways. Maybe we were brothers in another life.”

Tony looked up at his doctor from his couch. Peebles was listening intently, as usual, so Tony continued.

“Usually when Stephen and I visit, we talk about all sorts of things. Then either that night when I’m trying to sleep, or several nights after, some of the conversation in real life somehow gets mixed into my dreams. And sometimes it’s good and comforting. Other times it’s like, ‘holy shit!’ Ya know?”

Peebles nodded. “I think I do. I’ve had a few dreams like that, myself! How recent or how long ago did this dreams start?”

“It was the week I had coffee with Stephen and saw you. Met with Stephen on Monday, met with you on the Wednesday. Then I had the nightmare Thursday night.”

“Really?” asked Dr. Peebles. “Do you think the dream might have something to do with Stephen? Or our therapy, or a combination?”

“Phft, I dunno,” Tony shrugged from his spot on the couch. “Although, when I met with Stephen, that’s when I first found out I should be tested for ADHD. That was a bit of a shock. It seems everybody I know was way less surprised than I was!”

“From all you’ve said, it sounds like Stephen is a very nice person, and that you two have a lot in common. Please, go ahead and tell me some details of this dream, then,” said the psychologist. “Perhaps we can figure out something from that.”

“Yeah? Well, usually the bad parts of the dreams involve crappy times in my life. Like my dad yelling at me, or my parents dying, school bullies, or just, I don’t know. But it’s all negative and makes me realize that I’m glad we’re in the 2000s now, because, man, society had such ignorant ideas about people. And I _still_ don’t get what makes people a target for bullying.”

“Interesting that nobody ever asks, ‘What is it that causes people to bully others?’ We can revisit that question, Tony,” said doctor Peebles. “You made a very good point. Now you’ve mentioned you had some of the stressful and negative experiences that were brought up in your dream. Do they all seem to stem from your actual life as a child and growing up? Nothing from this present time or even the last 5 to 10 years?”

“Yeah, that sounds accurate,” said Tony in agreement. “Bad memories, basically. Memories I forgot about until the dreams.”

“I see. So these aren’t just dreams, they are painful memories resurfacing, memories that you may have previously blocked. You also mentioned you sometimes felt good or comforted in these same dreams?” asked the doctor, for clarification. “Or do you mean the good parts were in separate dreams?”

“Nope. All in the same dream. Kinda feels like a rollercoaster. The good parts are usually with my friend Stephen. I’m not sure why I don’t have Pepper or Rhodey or Peter in those dreams, it’s just Stephen. I mean, I do have dreams about my other friends and wife, it’s just that they’re not all mixed up in the bad dreams. Those dreams are always apart on their own.”

“So in the nightmares or bad dreams, you see Stephen, but it seems that Stephen helps or created a measure of safety for you, is that correct?” asked the psychologist.

“Yeah. Pretty much. And I don’t know if it had anything to do with his beliefs... Uh... He’s kind of a... Um, a mystic, I guess. Like believes in the power of belief, meditation, being able to heal yourself, that sort of thing. And he’s calm. So calming that he calms others. He just seems so, I don’t know, planted. Like, salt-of-the-earth.” Tony didn’t think it would be wise to explain that Stephen was the Sorcerer Supreme and was in charge of protecting Earth’s reality. “He and I both had dads who were brutish assholes.”

“So Stephen is like a monk, perhaps?” asked Dr. Peebles. “Or something like that?”

“Yeah, that’s a good analogy,” said Tony. “Like a Buddhist monk, but I don’t think it’s Buddha. But yeah. Calm. He meditates. He was a neurosurgeon until he had a car accident.”

“Aha! A wounded hero archetype!” Dr. Peebles had an ‘Aha’ moment.

”Beg your pardon?” 

“Ever hear of a psychoanalyst named Carl Jung?” asked Dr. Peebles. 

“Meh. I only find that name vaguely familiar,” replied the engineer, trying to remember where he’d heard or seen that name before.

“Well, some psychologists think of him as a bit of a rogue,” explained Tony’s therapist. “Some think he was a rogue in the best sense of the word. Others think he might’ve had a few loose screws.” 

“Ah, I get ya,” smirked Tony. “‘Genius’ and ‘Lunatic’ seem to have a very thin line between them!”

”Of the 12 archetypes Carl Jung identified, the ‘Wounded Healer’ is probably one of the best known. It’s the idea that those who seek to help others do so because they are, in turn, helping themselves,” explained Dr. Peebles. “It doesn’t matter if you’re a teacher, a writer, a physician, or an engineer. If you have a desire to help others because of a difficult past, this could very well be you, too, Tony. Maybe check out Carl Jung online. I love reading up on his stuff.”

”Well, yeah, this sounds pretty interesting,” said Tony. “Thanks, Doc!”

“Now, back to what we were talking about. What do you think your dreams mean?” asked Peebles. “Because, although there are some universal dream symbols, they are open to a wide variety of interpretation. It’s important that you, the dreamer, consider what these things mean to you.”

“Well, when I’m having these bad dreams, usually someone from my past is shaming me. In some cases Stephen stands up for me. Or sometimes he’ll do something that seems magical in the dream that explains why something happened in the past. Or because he’s present in my dreams, I can stand up for myself because I don’t feel all alone. I feel better, sort of. I mean I might still be angry or upset about the past, but then I find sometimes when the reasons are put into context, I understand more. I feel like I’m more in control, I guess. Does that make any sense, doc?”

The doctor nodded, “Yes, I totally get where you’re coming from. You feel empowered.” He nodded. “What are you being shamed for?” the doctor asked.

“For being kind. For being physically close to a boy. For innocence, it seems. Like who gives a shit if your toddler is hugging another toddler of the same sex?! Why is that a big deal? They’re kids!”

“Yes, in the past, these kinds of things were, shall we say, ‘trained out of us’ by our parents. Society had a very narrow point of view about what was the ‘right’ way or the ‘wrong’ way to love. Some politicians, or religious zealots probably reinforced all of this. The church or the state would enforce these rules by putting it in school curriculum. Judges and soldiers and police forces were expected to enforce these rules as well.”

“It’s like, my father was paranoid. Or some people were afraid of what everyone else would think,” said Tony. “But they couldn’t admit they were scared, so they mostly got mad.”

“That’s pretty much it, Tony! Children of your grandfather’s time were even physically abused sometimes because they were expected to obey. When a child didn’t meet expectations, it seemed to indicate that the parents or parent failed. Things were very strict.  
The Bible was interpreted sometimes, to shape what people wanted of society. I mean, the Bible was written by human beings. Human beings could have passed down information from generation to generation, true, but was it written as an interpretation of a teaching? How many authors dipped their pens into it? How much of it are we to take literally? So many questions!” laughed Dr. Peebles. “We’ll dive into that at another time. Now, I wonder, Tony... What do you think these dreams are trying to tell you? From what I’m gathering from you... The bad dreams bring back the past, specifically about strict gender rules and homophobia, and then you have Stephen jumping in to help you get through or understand more, or even just being present with you so you aren’t facing these things alone.”

Tony blinked. “To be honest, doc, I never thought about it like... That. Maybe I was focusing more on how the bad dreams were making me feel instead of what was actually being said.” Tony pursed his lips. “I think I know what it sounds like is happening in these dreams. It sounds like I don’t have to be so damn uptight about being a hardcore hetero! I mean, I shouldn’t be so... I dunno... Afraid just because I’m affectionate with someone of the same sex! That just seems so... Archaic. And I now see that sometimes when any guy touches me, I get real jumpy. Like ‘OhMyGOD someone’s gonna hate me’ or I should somehow be ashamed of hugging a dude.”

“And yet, if you were your father, or his father, or his father’s father, in those times, you wouldn’t have been allowed to express that opinion without being accused of being homosexual yourself. Or shamed as something dirty, or sacrilegious.”

“Yeah, see, I get that now,” said Tony. “It seems stupid now, but back in the day, they didn’t think it was. Seems all fear-based hysteria to me, but that’s what they were pushing.”

“Do you happen to know if Stephen is heterosexual, or would that matter to you, Tony?” asked the doctor.

Tony was stunned into silence for once. “I don’t even know! Wow! I never thought about it, just kind of assumed he was heterosexual. But I assume that about everyone unless they tell me different. That seems a very personal question to ask, too!”

“Yes,” said Dr. Peebles. “I’m not sure if your relationship would be any different than it is now. Does it matter to you, Tony?”

Tony sat up on his couch. “That is a good question, doc,” said Tony. “I’m going to have to think about that one!”

“Well, our hour is up, Tony,” said the doctor. “I suggest you mull that one over for a while and then we can have further discussion next time we see each other.”

“Okay, Dr. Peebles,” Tony said, stretching. He got up from the couch. “And just so you know, I’m seeing an ADHD specialist, if that’s okay.”

“Oh, yes, that’s right,” said Dr. Peebles. “Would you like to see both of us, or would you like to visit the ADHD psychologist for a few months and maybe, following that, touch base to let me know how things are going?”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea. I can even get the ADHD therapist to send you info if you like,” offered Tony.

“Sure! If you want to do that! It would likely help me help _you_. Have a good week, Tony,” said Dr. Peebles, smiling amiably. “Call me if you need to make an appointment. It doesn’t have to be in a month. I can see you sooner if you change your mind.”

“Will do, doc,” said Tony on his way out.


	10. Identity Crisis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to embrace the awkward, otherwise Tony wouldn’t likely be able to figure out some things about himself.
> 
> Pepper or Stephen? Or Pepper *and* Stephen? How does Tony bring this stuff up without actually hurting anyone, or making anyone angry? Or is that impossible? Maybe he should just explore his problems on his own.
> 
> Tony’s psychologist had mentioned he might like to read up on one of 12 Archetypes that were researched in the 1800’s by a psychoanalyst by the name of Carl Gustav Jung. Tony thought it might give him some insight on the reserved Supreme Sorcerer. Tony is surprised that his research actually seems to point at more than just Stephen. 
> 
> And apparently the Wounded Healer Archetype has something to do with Greek gods...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some references:  
\- Carl Jung, archetypes: https://exploringyourmind.com/twelve-jungian-archetypes/  
\- We are all wounded: https://henrinouwen.org/meditation/the-wounded-healer/  
\- Signs you are a Wounded Hero: https://thoughtcatalog.com/brianna-wiest/2016/01/12-signs-you-are-the-wounded-healer-personality-archetype/  
\- https://www.awakeninthedream.com/articles/the-wounded-healer-part-1  
\- How The Wounded Healer seems to be tied in to the Greek gods Asklepios and Kheiron: https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC2553448/

It was getting awkward. Tony had been feeling guilty about ignoring Stephen’s emails or voicemails. He was trying to work out something in his mind. It was stressing him out.

_Maybe I should embrace the awkward. I can handle awkward. That's one of my middle names..._

Tony's psychologist had instructed the engineer to keep a journal. 

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., I'm going to need to, uh, log another journal," he explained to his A.I.

"Is this going to be one of those ‘triple tsukahira with a triple layout back’ encryption types, boss?" she asked pleasantly.

"Roger that," said Tony...

He locked himself in his compound and shuttered everything up. He had spoken to Pepper about this so she wouldn't think he was in a bad way or something. She was absolutely fine with him having this time to himself because it was part of his healing process. F.R.I.D.A.Y. had locked him in just fine.

He reviewed the last several entries.

* * *

**Journal Entry #11:**

  
So, I was emotionally bullied, sometimes physically abused by my father when he’d freak out about mostly innocent behaviours he perceived as me “becoming” gay. Like, as if a person could “turn gay” or catch homosexuality like a virus or something. So ridiculous.

But all of my scarier moments in those dreams had to do with figuring out my gender identity, me as a boy being in the company with boys. How come I don’t have bad dreams about other embarrassing or scary stuff?? I mean, my dad was a real dick. I don’t even know why he wanted me in the first place! I couldn’t ever seem to do anything right. Nothing I did was ever good enough. Everything was always about him. How I’d potentially make him look bad. Talk about uptight!

One could argue that someone that uptight might be projecting...

So wouldn’t that be a shell shocker if my dad was gay... Holy shit!

If Howard Stark was gay, and if his dad was worse at beating the gay out of _him_ than he ever was with me... Well, Jesus. So if my dad was gay, but had to pretend he wasn’t just so he could survive his childhood, that would totally make sense why he treated me like he hated me.

And that would make sense if he was projecting onto me what he was afraid of admitting about himself.

Well, wouldn’t that be some crazy-ass fucking insanity!?

* * *

** Journal Entry #12: **

Also trying to figure out how to broach the subject with Stephen first. He doesn't know me as well as Pepper so he won't be able to read me as easily. Might have to be more casual, unassuming with Pepper, maybe tell her my psychologist was talking about um... Something... Damn.

If I tell her my psychologist was talking about homosexuality, she'll conclude that it's because somehow I brought it up or brought it to his attention in the first place. Geez... Yeah, have to think on that one, may just leave it alone for the time being. She's a smart woman, smarter than me. So hmmm... 

And I am so damn confused right now. I thought I loved... I think I still love Pepper... But what are these feelings I have for Stephen????

Who do I go to first? My wife sounds like the right idea... But... I don’t know if...

Huh... Maybe I need to speak to someone who is bi or gay who isn’t Stephen...? How the hell do I find someone? My psychologist would probably say to talk with a sex therapist, maybe... Geez!

I know! Maybe I’ll call my Psychologist and ask if I can bring Pepper so we can all talk!

But I don’t want to leave Stephen hanging either. Maybe I can just invite him to a separate session with my psychologist... So at least he’ll know I’m not trying to be an ass... I mean being an ass comes so naturally to me...

I just hope I don’t end up hurting anyone...

* * *

**Journal Entry #13:**

(_my remarks are in italics_)

(Read aloud by F.R.I.D.A.Y.)

_Checked out stuff about Wounded Hero, like Dr. Peebles suggested. _

_Peebles mentioned Carl Jung and 'archetypes:'_

(Read aloud by F.R.I.D.A.Y.and summarized by Tony Stark) Carl Gustav Jung (pronounced like "young") is apparently pretty famous, for being around during Sigmund Freud’s time. I bet Freud called Jung a 'punk-ass kid,' because Jüng disagreed with Freud that everything was about sex. And, yeah, Freud thought everything was about sex. Siggy used the term "**subconscious**" in 1893 to describe associations and impulses that are not accessible to consciousness. Like, you don't know you're doing something, or behaving a certain way, because your not aware you're doing it. It's _sub_conscious, or below consciousness. 

(Read aloud and summarized by F.R.I.D.A.Y.)

**_Wounded Hero_** (Carl Jung: 1951) is one of 12 archetypes (possibly more but the 12 are the main ones).

To come up with these 12, Jung studied the symbols and myths of many different cultures. 

These archetypes represent behavior patterns that make up different ways of being/existing. They’re also cultural symbols and images that exist in the collective unconscious. So collective unconscious is not just me, not just you, but these are a collection of symbols over several several lifetimes and seen in many different cultures all over the world. So if we ever wanted to find something we have in common, it's that all our ancestors had the same archetypes and now we still have all those archetypes. It's just that most of us are dead to them. Or they are dead to us. Because we choose not to be aware of them, don't care, don't know.

I think I've found some really good shit that one certain Mystic Arts Sorcerer would love to chat about.

* * *

**Journal Entry #14:**

(_my remarks are in italics_)

(Quotes read by F.R.I.D.A.Y.)

Wounded Healer:

Nobody escapes being wounded. We all are wounded people, whether physically, emotionally, mentally, or spiritually. The main question is not _“How can we hide our wounds?”_ so we don’t have to be embarrassed, but _“How can we put our woundedness in the service of others?”_ When our wounds cease to be a source of shame, and become a source of healing, we have become wounded healers.

_Damn._

_I think I’m trying to get to this point. I think Stephen May already be there on the other side... I just gotta follow him over. I might have an easier transformation/transition if he could help me a bit._

_I hope he can help me..._

* * *

**Journal Entry #15:**

(_my remarks are in italics_)

(Quotes read by F.R.I.D.A.Y.)

  
“The wound is where the light enters.” – Rumi

_So how to tell you might be a Wounded Healer (my remarks are in italics):_

**When you give other people advice, it feels like you are telling your younger self what you needed to hear.** It’s this dynamic that makes you love to help others. Healing them heals you.

_Sometimes this is true. I will have to ask if Stephen if it feels this way for_ _him: it sometimes seems that way when he talks to me._

  
**Since you were little, you’ve known that you wanted to help people.** You may not have known how you were going to do it, but you were aware that you wouldn’t be happy unless your life amounted to service in some capacity.

_Well, in my case it was more like guilt was _my_ motivator. Or a need for attention or love, probably. "Here world. Let me make this all up to you." __On the other hand, when I tried to help my fellows (friends, family, school mates, etc) when I was growing up, it was discouraged. Apparently dudes weren't supposed to need any help. Especially drunk ones. Because they thought asking for help was showing weakness. And offering help was proof you thought the other guy was weak. Lose - Lose situation, there. I wonder if that's how Steve Rogers thinks?? He’s from the same era..._

  
**Being recognized for your work is both your most intense desire, and your worst fear.** You want other people to see you as a healer or teacher or writer or whatever, but at the same time, your deepest, most conflicting fear is being seen in that way.

_This is starting to sound like me! Like, I thought this was all more to do with Stephen. But maybe we're _both_ Wounded Healers?_

  
**You believe that without struggle, you cannot truly know happiness.** You believe that there is a purpose in suffering, and that it is so we can see with complete clarity what it means to be at peace.

_I came to learn that. I used to not want to struggle, because I struggled since I was a kid. To get love, to get attention. So I got into the drinking and drugs to numb all that loneliness and frustration and pain. It felt like I couldn't get love from Howard, no matter what I tried. But I had to keep trying because he was my dad. And mom always put up with his crap, too. She's probably my model for "How To Put Up With People's BS" because I grew up with that and so I thought that was normal. _

  
**It’s hard not to let your work become your life.** You give everything you have to what you do – and sometimes it’s hard for you to know when to draw a line. Your work is your life, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

_Holy shit. I think this is true for both me _and_ Stephen._

  
**You sometimes help too much, and struggle to let people self-heal.** You’ve learned the hard way that often, you can tell people the answer, but until they figure it out themselves, it won’t truly resonate.

_I think that was more like my mom. Like she kept "helping" dad because she thought that was what love was. She tried to "fix" him, too. Except she was an adult, and I was a kid. And now... I think I might be wanting to constantly fix things, but on a bigger scale. I'm incorrigible. I think Stephen and I are lost causes. It might be nice not to be lost alone._

  
**Criticism feels particularly painful to you.** As someone who has been deprived of love in some way (that’s what all wounds are made of, FYI) sometimes criticism can sting more than it should (but you pull through).

_Fuck. I. HATE. Criticism. Fuck. I'm already my own worst critic, I don't need _more_ critics. I have my suspicions that Stephen can relate to this. But on the other hand, from what I've seen, he's shown he can catch himself when he's aware that he's acting defensive. I usually take the criticism and push down my feelings, because I know that I'm extra-sensitive about it, and because I know people sometimes need criticism to grow. I'd be a God-awful person if I thought I was perfect every minute. On the other hand, it sure is a pain in the ass that I'm never as perfect as I'd like to be. Still working on that._

  
**You are grateful for the difficulties you went through.** You recognize that the most painful times in your life were the most deeply transformative; without them, you would not be who you are or where you are. They were necessary (and transitory).

_I think that's more like Stephen. I'm getting there. I see _why_ it's a good thing to accept who/what you are no matter if it's good or bad. Because whatever it is, good or bad, it's _you._ You can't just say you're all good and none of the bad. Same with you can't say you're all the bad and none of the good when you get down about yourself. I still have some trouble owning up that it wasn't all Howard that fucked me up. It was a little bit Howard. It was a little bit mom. It's a little bit me. I was a kid then, but now I'm a grown-up. Time to fix me, myself, because I'm ready and I can take it now. I can do whatever it takes. No matter how much it sucks._

**You are always working on yourself.** You are committed to self-growth, and you are always open to ways you could be more open-minded, more loving, or more aware.

_Obviously Stephen has done the same on his end, I mean what a huge transformation he went through in just a few years! And I guess I should give _myself_ some credit. Well, this journal, and this therapy, and this medication is some of the proof of that, I guess. My attitude sure has changed, too. I don't try to point at everyone else but me. I know to point that finger directly in my own face when I need to. I'm a bit more patient with myself than I used to be, no thanks to you, Howard Stark. I don't go crying into a bottle of booze anymore. I'm still learning to adult. I wonder if kids know that adults sometimes feel like a kid inside and that they don't always want to adult. Because, fuck, it's hard. I didn't know my dad probably felt like that. But he seemed to have given up on himself, his family and the world. I didn't give up, though. I know I'm not done with myself yet. Who ever really is?_

**You want to fix everything, sometimes to a fault.** It’s hard for you to_ s_ee the difference between being a perfectionist and being driven toward the life you want. You often blur the line between dedication and near-insanity.

_Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. You know me so well, Wounded Healer website._

  
**You have a very sound sense of purpose.** You know why you’re here, and you know what you’re here to do, even if it’s just be present and be as kind as you can.

_Yes. My purpose. I'm still alive. I have to find a way to accept that I may die in this final confrontation with Thanos. It's so hard. But I'm trying. I try to fix other people and things so that it's not constantly on my mind. I assume Stephen must have a sense of purpose, because he kept me alive... For now... In the end, I’m certain it will come down to being my choice. And now I want to stop thinking... _

  
**Your life goal is to know that you helped even just one person, even just a little.** You don’t have to save the world, and in fact, you don’t really care to. All you want to know is that you helped at least one person in their life. That, to you, is success.

_Yes. I hope so. I hope that I am remembered for helping that one person._

————————————————————————-

**Journal Entry #16:**

(_my remarks are in italics_)

(Read aloud by F.R.I.D.A.Y.)

EXCERPT from webpage: <https://www.awakeninthedream.com/articles/the-wounded-healer-part-1>

(Read aloud by F.R.I.D.A.Y.) To quote **_Kerenyi_**, a colleague of Jung who elucidated this archetype, the **Wounded Healer** refers psychologically to the capacity _"to be at home in the darkness of suffering and there to find germs of light and recovery with which, **as though by enchantment**, to bring forth Asklepios, the sunlike healer." _

The archetype of the wounded healer reveals to us that it is only by being willing to face, consciously experience and **go through** our wound do we receive its blessing. 

_ **To go through our wound:** _

\- is to embrace, assent, and say "yes" to the mysteriously painful new place in ourselves where the wound is leading us.

\- we can allow ourselves to be re-created by the wound. Our wound is not a static entity, but rather a continually unfolding dynamic process that manifests, reveals and incarnates itself through us, which is to say that our wound is teaching us something about ourselves.

\- means realizing we will never again be the same when we get to the other side of this initiatory process.

\- is a genuine death experience, as our old self "dies" in the process, while a new, more expansive and empowered part of ourselves is potentially born.

\- as a part of ourselves is radically different than circumnavigating and going around (avoiding), or getting stuck in and endlessly, obsessively recreating (being taken over by) our wound.

The event of our wounding is simultaneously catalyzing a deeper (potential) healing process which requires our active engagement, thus "wedding" us to a deeper level of our being. Jung's closest colleague, Marie Louise Von Franz, said "the wounded healer IS the archetype of the Self [our wholeness, the God within] and is at the bottom of all genuine healing procedures."

_I think I've "gone through the wound" a number of times. And I think I'm going to have to go through it one last time. Because I'm pretty sure the last one is going to be the finale of my life._

* * *

**Journal Entry #17:**

_So, let’s say my dad wasn’t gay at all. Not repressing or denying anything. He’d probably still be a jerk, though. Mind you I didn’t really know my dad. He was so different than me, and he always seemed so angry that I wasn’t more like him._

_It just seems to make more sense if he was gay but pretty much had to live a lie his entire life because he was afraid of being gay in a society that rejected homosexuality. And probably because he was terrified. Maybe he even hated himself. I mean if all your life you were told that being homosexual was “against God” or “unnatural” or “disgusting” or whatever... And also sometimes homosexuals are made out to be pedophiles which is a load of horse crap. And some homosexuals get the crap beaten out of them, and some are murdered. Just for being someone that’s different. I could understand how that would be so damn messed up. I could understand how that would totally mess up a person, too._

_So, now I gotta wonder. I was discouraged from an early age and onward to be less emotional, or to innocently touch my male peers and with affection, or do anything remotely considered feminine or supposedly ‘gay.’ Like showing your male buddies you care about them. _

_I think my dad thought if _he_ had to avoid any PDA toward guys, then so did I. And it was still all about him. Somehow, if I wasn’t exactly like him, I was a failure, and somehow if I _was_ like him, then it was being like his **fake self.** I started drinking in my mid-teens. Dad drank his problems away, so I figured it would help me, too! I drank for a long time, well into my late 20’s and early 30’s. Everything I was afraid to think about was all sauced up with alcohol. So I wonder. I know I love my Pepper. I’m attracted to her. She’s so perfect. She’s been by me when I was at my lowest. So I know I’m not gay._

_I think._

_On the other hand. Stephen._

_Why would I constantly dream about him and then be barraged with bad memories of liking or touching or being close to boys when I was a kid???_

* * *

** Journal Entry #18:**

_Had another dream about my dad and me. _

_This time I was telling my dad off, sticking up for Stephen. Of course Stephen was there again... In my dreams... Things that make you go ‘hmmmm.’_

_Now that I’ve talked it out with Peebles. It almost seems obvious. But hard to say. But... I’m trying to be... Not closed off. Not neurotic about this. I get that it’s years and years and years of ‘programming’ that I have to... Reshape. Record over? Rewrite programming? Explore? Find out which part of me is genuine and which part is BS._

_But I wonder if... Hmmm no, not if... I try to imagine if I found Stephen... attractive. And it blows my mind... I mean... Was I this way all along, but just suppressed feelings for boys because of my father and a few other jerks in my life??_

_His eyes, oh my gosh. They are so stunning. And I don’t feel all that weird when he touches my arm, or hugs me. I gotta admit, even though it feels really odd to do so, when he’s around I feel so safe. I feel like it’s okay to be myself. My Self. I mean like I could tell him anything. I feel that way for a lot of friends, though, like Rhodey. Although not sure I feel comfortable talking to Platypus about this particular subject. So there’s something more. Something..._

_But I love my Pepper. I don’t want to hurt her. But then again... I can’t believe I’m considering this, but I might like to pursue this... feeling I have for Stephen. He just seems to, I don’t know, complete me? That sounds so cliché... I don’t get that same feeling when I’m with my other male friends. Just Stephen._

_I wonder if that means Stephen is of the same mind!? Because if your bro is heterosexual, I assume you wouldn’t feel anything else but friendship for them. But if they feel the same way you do, then maybe that energy or chemistry or whatever it is... Is somehow something more receptive? Absorbed? Reflected between us? Magnified?_

_Boy, wouldn't it suck if I did like him ‘that way’ and finding out he would freak out because of how his dad raised him!!!_

_This is really, for lack of a better word, interesting. And a little bit distressing. _

_I wonder if I could learn from Stephen how to meditate... Maybe I might be able to get a better feel about him as well... Like, am I gay?? Or am I... Or is Stephen heteronormative is he gay? Or maybe I’m just looking at all of this in black and white and I need to look at it more like there are various shades of grey..._

_Anyway, Stephen is the type of guy who I would feel comfortable talking to about this sort of thing._

_And again... What about Pepper???? I love her, too... But if I married her to fit some kind of expectation that society has rather than because I wanted to..._

_This is gonna be awkward no matter which way this works out..._

* * *

** Journal Entry #19:**

(_my remarks are in italics_)

(Read aloud/summarized by F.R.I.D.A.Y.)

Website: **https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC2553448/**

** THE WOUNDED HEALER **

Author_:_ Serge Daneault, MD PhD

A study/research on the higher rate of suicides among doctors an nurses compared to the general population.

Page 3&4 of 9:

## Is there a way out of suffering?

Does the idea of the wounded healer offer a way out of the suffering seen among health professionals? The notion of the wounded healer dates back to antiquity. **Plato**, the father of Western philosophy, stated that the most skillful physicians, rather than being models of good health, are those who have suffered from all sorts of illnesses. Such physicians become eloquent examples of “the wounded healer.”

**The Greek myth of *Chiron, the centaur from whose name _chirurgie_ is derived in French and _surgery_ is derived in English,** can help us to understand.

\- The Greek gods Apollo and Artemis taught medicine to Chiron.

\- Chiron was wounded by an arrow from Heracles’ bow. He did not die (because gods are immortal); instead, he suffered excruciating pain for the rest of his eternal days.

\- It was because of his grievous wound that Chiron became known as a legendary healer in ancient Greece.

\- Chiron later took an orphaned child, **Esculapius, into his care. The son of Apollo and a mortal, ***Coronis, Esculapius had been spared certain death when Apollo snatched him from his dead mother’s breast just as she was about to burst into flames. The orphan was entrusted to Chiron, who taught him everything he knew about the healing arts. It was thus that Esculapius became one of the two founding fathers of Western medicine.

In 1951, Jung first used the term _wounded healer_. Jung believed that disease of the soul could be the best possible form of training for a healer. In a book published days before his death, Jung wrote that only a wounded physician could heal effectively. In so doing, Jung drew upon the myth of Chiron, making it one of the most fundamental archetypes of human history and modern medicine.

* Alternate spellings: Chiron, Cheiron, Kheiron, Keiron 

** Alternate spellings: Esculapius, Aesclepius, Asklepios

*** Alternate spellings: Coronis, Koronis

* * *

* * *

Tony wasn’t usually into journaling about himself. He usually logged about technical issues, or about plans for inventions, or other mechanical notes. But he had to admit some of the things he’d been recording seemed pretty captivating. _Because it’s about _me_, of course..._

_And Stephen._

"OK, ready F.R.I.D.A.Y.! Please start my next entry now:"

* * *

** Journal Entry #20:**

(_my remarks are in italics_)

(Read aloud by F.R.I.D.A.Y.)

Excerpt (again) from website: <https://www.awakeninthedream.com/articles/the-wounded-healer-part-1>

(Read aloud by F.R.I.D.A.Y.) An encounter with something greater than our limited ego, what Jung calls the **Self**, is always a wounding experience for the ego. This is symbolically represented when the mythic Jacob, after making it to daybreak in his fight with the angel of God (who was clearly the more powerful of the two), becomes wounded on the hip by the angel's touch. The event of our wounding is initiatory, as our wounding originated in and potentially introduces us to "something greater than ourselves." At the same time that something greater than ourselves wounds us, something greater than ourselves enters us as a result of our wounding, setting in motion a deeper dynamic of psychic re-organization and potential transformation.

_So when we encounter something greater than the Self, it creates a wound. When you become wounded it is caused by something greater than the Self. And it allows you to be open to something greater than the Self. _

_So when "something greater than ourselves" wounds us, it then allows that "something greater" to enter us _because_ of the wounding. And that helps you grow. That helps you transform. That helps you overcome. That helps you rise like a phoenix from the ashes. You're reborn. _

_Sooo... Whatever fight to survive you have, if you have to find a way to survive childhood, adolescence, addiction, abuse, if you make it through a daily battle, if you have to struggle and then somehow make it to the other side... You become a little more invincible? _

_It can’t be the actual crisis that causes the wound... Maybe it’s the ability to see you’re in a bad place and you are no longer willing to stay stuck there. Because some people are blind to that or believe they deserve to hurt. So maybe it’s like your eyes are opened somehow and then when you come to the realization and acceptance of your pain, and what’s causing the pain... That must be the catalyst or the fuel. It creates the strengthening of will to get something done... To grab that ledge and pull yourself a little closer to the light. To drag yourself, inch by inch if you have to, out of that pit of despair. To admit you can't do this alone. To accept you need to ask for help. To take a leap of faith._

_My Iron Man suit is made of a nickel-titanium alloy called nitinol. Nitinol is light and easy to reform when damaged. But I would go from being Nitinol to, say, like Vibranium..._

_Fuck this is awesome. In the scariest sense possible. So I can either have a panic attack and be unable to transform, or I can figure out how to accept the fear and let it wash over me so I can take what's thrown at me and transform. _

_Iron Phoenix._

_Gotta call Stephen._

* * *

* * *

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.? End recording, please.”  
  
“Will do, boss!” the A.I. Program complied.

Tony picked up his cell phone and called the Stephen to set up a coffee/tea time.


	11. With Or Without You?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephen recalls how the initial Avengers meeting he attended. It didn’t go quite as planned... 
> 
> Cap and his clique don’t trust this Dr. Strange. Tony’s getting frustrated with some of these supposed team members. And, well, could Peter be any MORE excited? 
> 
> Levi gets a little reunion with some old friends, and senses some people who could use a hug.
> 
> Wanda and Shuri are wondering why they weren’t asked for their expert opinions. T’Challa wants to know: will it be safe to fight together if nobody’s on the same page.
> 
> Is there a way to get proof that Stephen is having more than just your average dreams? 
> 
> Stephen and the other Masters of the Mystic Arts don’t want to join the Avengers, but they might just have the next best thing.

Stephen Strange slowly went upstairs and into his cozy living area at 177A Bleecker Street after a quiet day watching over the Sanctum. As usual, he sat back and had a few sips of tea, contemplating the days events. Not much of interest happened in the New York Sanctum today, but it was easy to appreciate when it was quiet. _Boring is overrated, _he thought to himself.

He reflected on the previous week, recalling when he had attended the Avenger’s meeting. Almost all the Avengers and allies attended, and those who couldn't physically were able to conference via Holo-VOIP. Those on H-VOIP were T'Challa and his sister, Shuri, Rocket, Fury, and Carol Danvers.

🕝🕜🕛🕚🕙🕘🕗🕖🕕

Stephen knew that Natasha was missed. He hadn’t met her, but he had noticed Tony had a memorial brochure with her face on it inside his desk. Tony had his favourite top drawer where all his pens, erasures, pens and rulers were always within easy reach. Stephen had noticed several times, where he stood in front of Tony’s desk, that something would always catch the engineer’s eye when that drawer opened, and whatever it was made him pause for a few seconds in the middle of opening or closing the drawer. Finally, at one point he had been standing beside Tony when the drawer was pulled out, and again he saw Tony glance down after grabbing a pen. The sorcerer’s eyes caught the photo of Natasha with “Celebrating A Life” written in a fancy font above the photo.

_So Tony is remembering his fallen friend, _thought Stephen. _He never talks about her unless someone asks or says something first. But he sees her face everyday and thinks about her, even when he’s having a hectic day. _And Stephen would often take little observations like this and file it away in his mind.

He watched various faces, especially Bruce’s and Clint’s expressions whenever their eyes would drift to where Natasha used to sit. Their expressions would always change a bit around their eyes. Some, like Steve and Nebula seemed to completely avoid looking there. 

Vision was also gone, and his place had always beside Wanda, from what Tony had described. The engineer mentioned that Wanda was sometimes very quiet until she got to know people, and preferred talking in smaller groups. But he’d noticed she seemed even more withdrawn and tired lately. Stephen observed that the woman had dark circles under her eyes. She sat with her knees up and feet on the seat. She kept her gaze forward and also kept her arms crossed, leaning her arms on her knees, hugging herself. She seemed to want to disappear into the chair.

Tony had, as promised, made it clear on what the sorcerer would or wouldn’t be discussing before Stephen had arrived. Most of the Avengers were fine with the boundaries. But there were a couple who thought they were being clever about not bringing up the questions they weren’t supposed to, but definitely tested the perimeters and Tony’s patience.

The meeting was productive, for the most part: at best, Stephen learned a lot about what was going on with the dynamics of the group. Even if things went a bit a bit sideways, even _that_ was valuable information for Stephen. Introductions had gone fairly well, and discussions were congenial and polite - up until the point where Tony and Stephen explained that Thanos would be back. 

“Essentially, you could argue that Stephen was merely dreaming of these meetings with Kheiron and Asklépios, because usually the true facts that lead to conclusions are the simplest, of course,” said Steve Rogers.

"Excuse _me_?" inquired the sorcerer from the front of the room. "Respectfully, Mr. Rogers, I would prefer if you addressed me as Dr. Strange," said the former surgeon in a firm but measured voice. 

"You can call me Steve," said The Cap, with a warm smile. 

"Lovely, Steve, if that’s your preference. My preference is that I am referred to as Dr. Strange," Stephen explained, returning the warm smile. He noticed, with some satisfaction, that the pleasantness in Steve’s mouth turned a bit more tepid. "The only time anyone _may_ call me Stephen is when the word "_Doctor_" is before it and "_Strange_" after it, although that will take longer to say."

The doctor observed, from his peripheral vision, Scott and Hope. They were both looking at him from the side of the conference table by the windows. Hope had a carefully smooth, professional expression of mild interest. Meanwhile, in sharp contrast, Scott wore all sorts of emotions all over his face, especially in his twitchy mouth and eyebrows. Stephen had to turn his head a couple of times, pretending to cough or clear his throat. He found it hilarious when Hope was trying to be so neutral and diplomatic, but Scott’s face likely told the entire story of what he was feeling about meeting Dr. Strange and listening to explanations about his dreams and the Soul Realm.

“The way I see it, Stephen’s body was in 2019, his mind was in 2019. It’s not unusual for a brain to dream about the past, from memories, or just make up weird stuff that doesn’t make any sense,” Hope had addressed the sorcerer. “How do you know you’re actually speaking with gods? Why would you only be able to remember by going back to the Soul Realm? You don’t have to be in a location to remember it.”

“Wasp Queen, do you know if you are speaking with a god right _now_?” countered Thor. He put out his hands and leaned back in his chair. “Perhaps this is an illusion of your mind?”

“No, Thor,” said Scott, as though he was talking to a child in a grownup voice. “You’re _here_. _With_ us. _Now_. Lots of us _see_ you and _hear_ you. Some of us have met you and your family and friends of Asgard. We _know_, collectively, that you’re real!”

”Well,” scoffed Thor, whose mirth rose ever higher as Scott spoke. “I am eternally of thanks for that statement, Captain of the Obvious. It was so difficult a concept for me to grasp.”

Several Avengers attempted not to smile or laugh at the Asgardian turn of phrase. Scott blinked rapidly. Then he was trying to think of something to retort, but he could only sputter. “Very... Not funny... You god of... of... Whatever the opposite of funny is.”

”Scott Lang, King of Ants, your insect-sized jokes have broken legs and you have been set afire,” taunted Thor, shaking his head and looking pleased with himself.

Scott frowned at the god, ”_What_?”

”I think he’s saying that your little jokes are lame,” interpreted Hope, helpfully, whispering to Scott. “Um, and that you got burned.”

”The Queen of Wasps knows of which I speak!” bellowed Thor cheerfully. He bowed politely to Hope. “That is _exactly_ what I said to the King of Little Ants.”

“_No_ it wasn’t,” retorted the electrical engineer irritably. Scott shook his head and grimaced. “Rude!” He turned away from Thor in disgust and looked at Stephen again. “The problem here, Dr. Strange, is that there is no proof that these are _real_ memories you’re dreaming or remembering. Unless... Can you maybe show me any receipts from meeting up with those gods at Starbucks?”

Stephen was about to speak, but Tony interjected. Stephen could sense Tony was getting frustrated. “Look, he’s legit. _I_ trust him. _Pepper_ trusts him. Some of you guys have met him already. Who was it that alerted us to Thanos in 2018? Interesting that Bruce was the one who told Dr. Strange, and Bruce was believed, by the way. Who helped me and Spiderman fight the bad guys on Earth and on Titan? Who helped the Guardians, Spidey, and me fight Thanos?" His voice grew more agitated as he continued, "I didn’t see any of _you_ guys up there...”

“_We_ were fighting _our_ asses off in Wakanda,” snarled Sam Wilson, who was sitting beside Steve Rogers and James Barnes. “I can’t get into the semantics of this debate,” he said, pointedly glaring at Stephen. “But Thanos had _all_ the Infinity Stones in the gauntlet when he arrived on Earth - except the Mind Stone. So don’t _you_ start, Tony.”

Tony’s face reddened and he closed his eyes to count to ten. Tony realized Sam could have easily asked how Thanos got the Time Stone, but he had held back. The last thing he wanted was for Stephen to become a target of blame and then have even less credibility. The engineer clenched his jaw, willing the suddenly-ignited lightning ball of anger that was threatening to burst out of him. “That’s not what I meant, Sam,” he said with a very tired voice. He leaned across the table, looking straight at Steve. “_You_ know what I mean. Don’t ya. _Steve_.”

Steve set his jaw, but said nothing.

Stephen concentrated on not grinding his teeth. Instead he held his hands behind his back and paced slowly back and forth at the front of the room a couple of times. Tony had described to him the events that transpired in Siberia. He was actually quite agitated that somehow Captain America had been exonerated of any crime. Steve Rogers’s freedom after nearly killing Tony Stark made Dr. Strange conclude that the legal system, the politicians, or the public were blind, or corrupt, or some combination thereof.

“Guys, _guys_,” said Rhodey. “The fight was hard and there were many losses at both battles. _That_ was the fight. Right now - here in this room - there should be no fighting. We,” he said, motioning around the room with both of his pointer fingers, "_We_ are not the fight. _We_ need to trust each other."

When Rhodey finished speaking Stephen spun to face everyone from his position in the front of the room. “The point Tony was making was that there was an imminent threat to Earth. Did anyone here _promise_ they would be there to battle together? Did _any_ of you believe Tony?” The sorcerer had caught that Captain America’s eyes, imperceptible to all except Stephen, narrowed slightly when those words were spoken. _Good, you Captain-American-Flagpole-Up-Your-Ass._

“We’re a team,” piped up Bruce Banner. He’d been so quiet since Natasha had died that when he had spoken, everyone stopped what they were doing or saying and looked at him, as though they didn’t recognize his voice. He was cleaning his glasses, not looking up. “_Please_ tell me we’re still a team. You know..." He breathed on his glasses and wiped a particularly stubborn spot. "Natasha would say we should all just get the fuck over ourselves, no matter how hard it is to climb down from our egos. We’re her family and she wouldn’t like all this drama.”

There was a heavy silence. Sam and Tony had both sat back down and were looking at their hands on their laps, faces showing hints of red. The rest were exchanging glances, nodding, looking somewhat embarrassed. Except Scott. He just looked genuinely confused.

Bruce looked up when he noticed how quiet it was. “What?” he asked, and shrugged. He seemed to get a little pink in the face. "I didn't think anyone was listening to me... Anyway, now that you _are_ listening... I’ve met Dr. Strange before, and he believed me about Thanos, like Tony mentioned. Plus Tony vouches for him. If Tony trusts him, and he _does,_ then that’s good enough for me."

“I’d _like_ to be on Tony’s side,” said Rhodey, looking down at his feet for a minute. “Tony, you’re my main man, you know it. I’d have your back in a heartbeat. But I need proof for the benefit of the whole team. I'm liaison or co-Captain, or whatever the hell my position is. But I speak for the whole group, and as your Captain-MC-Liaison officer, I need to make sure we're all on the same page.”

”I must say, Master Supreme Sorcerer, I was most impressed with how you managed my brother, Loki,” said Thor, with an earnest face. “A man who can handle a god by a wave of his hand is someone I can vouch for with certainty!”

“Wait...? Hold up,” Clint put up both hands as if to halt this train of thought. “Sorcerer did _what_ now?” Scott's jaw dropped. Hope's, T'Challa's and Steve's faces remained steady and neutral. Carol raised an eyebrow. Sam looked at James Barnes and shook his head, mouthing the word "Bullshit." Stephen, Peter, Bruce, and Tony nodded and pointed at each other with finger-pistols. Wanda and Shuri shared a glance at each other from across the table, looking annoyed at everyone who didn't seem to believe Dr. Strange or Tony. 

”Loki and I came to New York and the Strange Doctor took him out of it, temporarily,” explained Thor, grinning with fond memory of his rather delinquent brother.

“True. I opened a portal under Loki and placed him in a dimension where he would continuously fall until I took him back out of said dimension,” confirmed Dr. Strange, nodding while he leaned against the wall.

“The good doctor had conveniently left his calling card. So off I went to the Sanctum Sanctorum - in the village of Green Witches, I believe it was - where the Strange Doctor and I spoke. He asked me if I'd like tea, but I do not care much for warm leaf water, therefore I declined. BUT!!” His palms came down on the table with a loud bang and startled everyone in the room. “Suddenly there was a nice stein full of beer from which to drink, as it seemed to magically appear right in my hand where there used to be a teacup. After I had downed most of this heavenly drink, I was still quite parched and was about to ask for another, and lo... It was once again full to the brim! Finest beer I have tasted. Reminded me of home..."

At being called "Strange Doctor," Dr. Strange tried not to role his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose to hide his annoyance. Then he looked up at Thor. “You’re welcome, Thor,” nodding slightly to the god.

At this point Thor zoned back in on the group after his reminiscing about the beer, which he obviously enjoyed, and he reddened a bit," Ah! Uh well, as I was saying, the Strange Doctor asked me what was our purpose for visiting Earth. And I explained we had come to find father -“

”Odin was on _Earth_?” squawked Scott. 

“The Strange Doctor knew where he was,” said Thor. “So after the mighty sorcerer brought Loki back, Strange Doctor sent us to father, in Norway.”

”Dr. Strange sent... _He_ sent _you_ to Norway...” asked Clint, his eyebrows hovering near his hairline. “You and Loki?”

“Yes, Arrow Man,” said Thor. “At the Sanctum, Loki fell out of thin air and had complained he had been constantly falling for thirty minutes. Then we were suddenly in Norway with the Allfather.”

At this point Stephen felt he needed to speak up. He went to stand near Tony at the front of the room. He placed a reassuring hand on Tony’s shoulders and quietly asked, “Can you bring up my information on the Masters of Mystic Arts Alliance Proposal on the screen when I cue you?”

Tony's glum expressioned lightened, and he gave a quick smile, grateful to be thinking about something else, and nodded. Stephen felt some of the angry tension ease out of the engineer’s shoulders. Stephen held Tony’s grateful gaze for a fraction of a second longer, then returned the smile and squeezed Tony’s shoulder.

When he turned around, he made a point of making eye contact with those he had observed as either having qualities of leadership, or as providing influence.

He looked at Rhodey, first. Tony had told him quite a bit about the former military man. He was considered the debater, sometimes the devil’s advocate, but over and above, he was the tenuous glue holding all the Avengers together in that room. Rhodey, standing to the side of the conference table with his thumbs hooked in his belt, looked straight back at Stephen. Stephen gave a barely perceived nod and continued.

“I thank those of you who have accepted that it is true that Thanos will return. I am grateful and I am sure Earth - not to mention the other planets in the universe - will be grateful that The Avengers took the threat seriously.”

He paused, when he got to the screen. “Perhaps The Avengers will take me more seriously when they understand that I am not the only person who supports this idea that Earth is still under threat by Thanos," said the former neuorsurgeon in a confident baritone. Stephen then prompted Tony with a slight nod, and then looked at Steve.

A map showing the locations of the Sanctums and Kamar-Taj appeared at the front of the room.

“On this global map you will notice that there are four main locations highlighted. These locations house a very specialized group of Earth's protectors. We reside, train in physical combat as well as other aspects of defense, guard knowledge and tools from falling into the wrong hands, and also teach methods of survival, healing, and protection.” When he and Tony had discussed how to introduce the idea that there were thousands of sorcerers in several key locations in the world, they had agreed he speak in very general terms at the outset.

The sorcerer addressed Fury. “Fury, Tony and I have compiled everything in this presentation for you and sent it to SHIELD. But if you have any questions at the moment, I can field them now if you like.”

”I’m still reviewing the information, and I’ll definitely get back to you,” said Fury. He only had one good eye, but when he glared at the people in the room, they could tell he had enough disgust in it to make up for lacking the other. “You people should really pay attention to this man,” he said, leaning his bald head toward Stephen. “He checks out with us at SHIELD. This guy’s got something to offer. And if you all want to survive another day, you better get on board before you’re left behind in the dust.”

“Thank you, Fury,” said the sorcerer, giving Fury a nod.

Next, Stephen looked directly at James Barnes, who seemed uncomfortable at first. Barnes looked down and glanced at Steve before returning and maintaining the eye contact.

”We have the main training, living, healing, and resource buildings in Kamar-Taj Headquarters, in Kathmandu,” said Stephen, pointing at the location on the map. "Then we have the Sanctums: New York, Hong Kong, and London.”

”Sanctums?” queried Sam.

”Yes, and as I explained to Tony, Peter, and Bruce when I first met them, I’ll say to you. While heroes like yourselves, the Avengers, protect the world from physical dangers... We sorcerers safeguard it against more _mystical_ threats."

”The three Sanctums are more like bases. They’re generally used for guarding mystic items, artifacts, or relics.” He smoothly walked away as his cloak stayed in place, making some of the Avengers jump or drop their jaws. “This is a fine example of a relic. Avengers, meet The Cloak of Levitation, or Levi, as Levi prefers. Levi is a sentient being, and as all relics choose their sorcerers, Levi chose me.” 

Levi bowed at the collar and dipped down a little to greet the group. Then the cloak’s collar turned, as the rest of Levi stayed put, as if asking for permission from Stephen. “This beautiful cloak has saved my life many times. Be my guest, Levi,” said Dr. Strange, with a slow nod and a gesturing hand to the rest of the floor.

As Stephen stepped back for a minute, the cloak did a small twist in the air and flew over to Peter. “Hey, Levi!” the teen greeted the outer-wear, and he and the cloak fist-bumped. Well, Levi curled the corner end of the bottom of the cape and used that as a fist.

Bruce had been smiling softly at the antics but seemed surprised when the cloak did some sort of two-legged, bouncy dog-walk across the table from Peter to the bio-engineer. The length of the cloak swung wildly, like a tail, causing some papers to scatter. Bruce dropped his pen and a file fell off of his lap when the bottom corners of the cloak reached out and cupped his face, as though very concerned.

”Oh! Oh, hi there Levi,” chortled Bruce. “No, I’m fine! No need to worry.” 

Levi swooped to the floor, disappearing for a few seconds, suddenly reappearing with the dropped pen and file folder. 

“Uh... oh, thanks,” said Bruce. “That was sweet of you. Nice to see you again.”

Levi patted Banner on the back and then seemed to pause, facing toward Wanda. She had been following the flight path of the sorcerer’s cloak with tired amusement. 

The cloak floated around the front of table and back to where Wanda was sitting. Wanda looked at Levi, and raised her eyebrows. “Hello, Levi. Can I help you?” Her voice was soft and quiet.

The cloak opened up and encompassed her shoulders and fully around the chair she was perched on. At first Wanda stiffened, but when she was enveloped, she melted a bit. “Oh, Levi,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “You are so _very_ warm.” 

Levi gently let go, leaving a corner of the fabric on Wanda’s shoulder. “Levi is great at hugging,” Wanda said to the group. She patted the cloak’s fabric on her shoulder with one hand, and wiped a single tear from her eye with the other. “Thank you, Levi.”

Next, Levi swayed back around to Clint. Clint looked baffled and began to back up slowly. “No... No I’m good, Mr. Cloak,” he said as the cloak advanced slowly toward him. “I don’t like hugs. No thanks! I appreciate the thought, just... I... “

”What he’s trying to say is you can hug him later, when nobody else is around,” said Shuri, winking at the disconcerted-looking Clint. 

Levi turned to face the Holo-VOIP that was Shuri. The cloak did a satisfied little dip, then swooped over to Thor and temporarily sat on his broad shoulders. 

“Wow, Mr. Thor, That colour looks good on you!” said Peter, and chuckled when the god of lightning blushed.

”Do you think so, Spider-boy?” asked Thor with a very pleased grin. He posed grandly, with his fists on his hips. He nodded, “Levi’s colour _is_ very eye-catching.”

Levi responded by giving the god’s cheeks a couple of pleased pats on the cheek, zipped over to Tony and hugged him around the shoulders causing the engineer to grin and pat the cloak. Then Levi migrated gracefully back over to Stephen’s shoulders.

“Thank you Levi, that was helpful. Now some of you have met me and know a few things about me,” he looked at Peter Parker with affection.

“Mr. Strange - !” Peter suddenly became very animated and his hand shot up in the air as though he was in a classroom at high school.

“Doctor,” corrected Stephen, trying to conceal his amusement. "And when you are addressed, Peter, there is no need to put up your hand."

Peter’s cheeks darkened pink momentarily, “_Doctor_ Mr. - I mean Mr. Doctor Strange! I know you and I can vouch for you, too! We fought Thanos together!” the young boy’s eyes were wide as he turned to look at all the other people in the room. “You guys have really awesome powers, but you should’ve _seen_ Dr. Strange! He was shooting fireballs and made portals and we almost got the gauntlet off Thanos!”

Others in the group hadn’t had a chance to see any of the sorcerer’s powers. They only knew some minor details. There was some murmuring and whispering that subsided when Captain Marvel stood up. Stephen hoped his cheeks and ears didn’t look as red as they felt.

“So what, exactly, are these powers?” Carol Danvers asked, conversationally.

“Mr. Dr. Strange is a Wizard!” squawked Peter nearly yelling with enthusiasm.

At this point Dr. Strange closed his eyes and sighed. He heard Tony trying not to laugh, and a sputter when the engineer had choked a bit on his coffee. When Stephen opened his eyes, he corrected the term: “Well, yes. Although we prefer to be identified as sorcerers.”

“Oooh... Okay,” Rocket said with trepidation as his ears lowered against his skull. “I’m not sure I can handle this...”

“Sorcerers? Like, '_alakazam_!?'” scoffed Scott. He reached behind Wanda’s ear and displayed a quarter for Stephen. Wanda rolled her eyes and did a facepalm, as did several other team members.

“Sure,” said Stephen. Peter's eyes grew wider as he saw the sorcerer quietly muttering something incomprehensible, and with a smirk barely showing on one corner of his lips, the magus then uttered, “_Alakazam_.” His deep baritone voice boomed and echoed as though the conference room was being held inside an echo chamber. Some of the loose papers lifted slightly from the table.

Several Avengers had jumped or flinched. Someone had knocked over a chair. Bruce dropped his glasses and Tony fell backwards out of his chair. Scott froze when out of a small portal above his head, a continuous stream of quarters started falling on him. It took a moment for the pain to kick in through Scott’s surprise as several of the coins bounced off his skull. The other Avengers were startled and moved further back as the pile of quarters had expanded around the Ant Man. Wanda was trying really hard not to laugh.

Finally there was just trickle of silver change coming down and the pile of quarters was up to Scott’s chin. 

Peter, who knew something was going to happen when he saw Stephen's mouth moving, was laughing so hard he found it difficult to sit in his chair. "Oh my GOD, you guys," he hollered between gasping and laughing. "You shoulda seen your faces!" He was pointing helplessly at Scott who was still too surprised to give him a dirty look.

"Hey Scott, do you need any change for laundry or parking?" Wanda quipped. 

Scott looked annoyed, “Is that all you - ow,” he was interrupted by a few more quarters hitting him soundly in the head again. “Ah! Yow! Never mind. Geez.”

“I don’t _get_ you guys,” Wanda said, bringing up her hand showing small red tendrils and sparkles of her red chaos energy. “_I’m_ a sorceress, so what’s the difference? Would it be any different if I had seen these gods? Wouldn't you believe _me_? I don't get why you don't trust this guy. I can sense he's very talented and he's not lying. Seriously, what is wrong with you people and why wouldn't you think to ask for _my_ opinion?"

"I don't know this man very well, myself," said Carol Danvers. "But I am leaning toward believing him. Even if he may be wrong, do you _seriously_ want to take the chance? Tony was right the first time, and look what happened. Wouldn’t you want to err on the side of _caution_?"

"By the way," piped up Shuri. "I am also perplexed and concerned that nobody thought to ask Wanda's opinion. Her input would be greatly valued. It doesn't make sense why she was overlooked. And for that matter, did it occur to you that perhaps with Tony and my own talents, we could possibly design something that would prove the dreams are not typical?? I am sure if there was a scan on a regular MRI it would even show difference from how a brain normally looks during R.E.M. and what Stephen's might look like when he is dreaming of the memories and in conversation with someone. It's like many of the people here are purposely avoiding obvious factors to bring out the truth, and I want to know why."

Dr. Strange smiled the widest he had during the whole meeting. "Well, I wasn't going to _say_..." He was impressed with the young princess. _Well, it's good to see it coming from someone other than myself or Tony_, thought the sorcerer. _If either of us tried to point it out, we'd probably have gotten ignored or shut down._

"Well, I'm inclined to trust Stephen," said Clint, crossing his arms. "I agree with Carol and Shuri. I have no reason to doubt Tony. He's been through some shit and he's never lied to anyone. Not like some people," he looked sideways at Steve. "If some of you want proof then Shuri and Tony can go ahead with the scanning."

"I am a qualified neuorsurgeon, as well," offered Stephen."I could -"

"Hold on, here," said Steve irritably. He stood up and leaned on the table. "Look, I think, in the interests of the entire team, and in a sincere show of non-bias and pure objectivity, that **only** Shuri should work on this project."

"The fuck, Steve?" asked Tony. "Oh... Wait. I know what's he's getting at. He doesn't trust me or Dr. Strange, so he wants to make sure this is an _impartial_ experiment," Tony smirked. "Well, that's fine by me. Shuri is brilliant. I'm sure she can figure it out. Thanks for the vote of confidence, by the way. I see things still haven't changed.”

"I would appreciate _someone_ with expertise in brain waves and patterns," said Shuri. "Again, a skilled neurosurgeon helping alongside me would be a great asset. I have extensive knowledge with some bioengineering. What about Mr. Banner?"

"I would love to," grinned Bruce. Then he saw Steve's expression. "What?!? Seriously, Steve? I mean, fuck you!"

"Language," scolded Steve. He shrugged. "I guess I'm okay with Bruce helping. I know Tony and you are friends, Bruce, but I also know you are honest and a true scientist who wouldn't let your friendship cloud your judgement."

”Gee, thanks,” muttered Bruce.

”This is going to be very convoluted,” sighed Rhodey. “I would like a show of hands, please. Does anyone else agree that we need to do have hard data to be able to trust Dr. Strange and Tony?”

Hope, Scott, Sam, Bucky, put up their hands right away. Fury reluctantly added his vote.

”I work for SHIELD,” he explained. “Doesn’t matter what I think. They’re gonna want proof, too.”

"Mr. Rogers," addressed Stephen. "If you don't want the best neurosurgeon in the world to assist Shuri, would you at least be willing to have the second best work with Shuri?"

Steve narrowed his eyes at Stephen. "Who do you have in mind, Dr. Strange?"

"Christine Palmer," said the sorcerer. "I've worked with her before. Not sure where she is at the moment because I haven't seen her in a few years, but I could probably track her down."

Stephen remained expressionless as Steve thought about the offer. “If you’re recommending her, perhaps I could interview her before making that decision.”

”I’ll provide her contact information after the meeting, then,” said Stephen.

”I am somewhat surprised that this is called a ‘Team Meeting,” chimed in T’Challa, finally. Like Stephen, he preferred to observe before making any moves. “Are we even safe to perform Avenger duties together? It seems to me that several members might prefer to be on a completely separate team. Is there some way to remedy this lack of trust? When we need to battle, I do not like to fight beside someone who might deviate from the plan simply because they don’t agree with something like the Accords.” He didn’t even glance at Steve Rogers, but Stephen still saw Cap flinch.

“Attention, class,” called out Dr. Strange. “I wasn’t quite finished my presentation. King T’Challa, if I may address your concern. I feel that because of the time we have before Thanos comes, it is my strongest hope that The Avengers will all have improved their communication and earn each other’s trust back. Or at very least, if there is a healthy split that could make things easier to have, at least, some kind of strong alliance.”

There were several nods, and Hope smacked Scott on the shoulder to get his attention. Quite quickly the Avengers were all eyes front again. Stephen glanced back at Tony, who looked at Dr. Strange with surprise. 

“That’s a great idea!” whispered Tony, hiding his mouth with a hand so only Stephen could hear or see his lips moving.

”Speaking of alliances... You might like to know that the Masters of the Mystic Arts wish to form an alliance with The Avengers,” said Stephen gazing at the people around the room. “The Masters of Mystic Arts knows Thanos is coming back. They are working together to pinpoint when Thanos will arrive, and where.”

”As Sorcerer Supreme, I have made arrangements to take you as individuals or groups of two or three on a tour to Kamar-Taj, and once all of you have completed that tour, I can take you to see Sanctum Sanctotrum, in Greenwich Village." He smile. “We’re offering this to give full transparency, or at least, as much transparency as we deem safe.”

”Why’s that?” asked Sam. “What have you got to hide from us?”

”Mr. Wilson,” Stephen acknowledged. “The Avengers have been in existence - for what? Maybe a few years or perhaps a decade? Well, the Sanctums and Kamar-Taj have been in existence without anyone knowing about them for thousands of years. You’ve only heard from us because recent events have made it necessary for us to expose ourselves to the outside world. Otherwise, you’d all be none the wiser. I think we can say, with confidence, what we are or are not comfortable with allowing you and SHIELD to see.” 

Fury nodded, “HA! Yeah, we had enough with magic devices. Those Infinity Stones were plenty enough. I believe it would be in everyone’s best interests if we allow the _experts_ who live with and study the magical relics to make informed decisions!”

Sam seemed a bit more at ease after hearing Fury’s point of view. He nodded and shrugged. “Well, as long as those items don’t cause anyone danger...”

”I assure you, Mr. Wilson,” said Stephen with an amused look on his face. “They won’t cause any danger if they are locked up and heavily guarded, with physical people and traps, as well as magical security spells.”

Stephen had continued talking about the Alliance proposal, and had provided the group with business cards that had one of his emails on it, saying they could ask any questions they wished and he would either provide the answers himself or find someone or something that could provide an answer.

🕒🕓🕔🕕🕖🕗🕘🕙

Stephen finished writing in his journal. He had noted that, so far those who had wanted to come on the Sanctum tours had been Tony, Peter, Fury, Wanda, Bruce, Thor, Carol, Hope, Scott, Clint, T’Challa, Shuri, and Happy. Happy hadn’t been at the meeting, but he was able to watch the footage. Stephen was not shocked that Steve and Sam didn’t sign up. He was _not_ expecting Bucky to contact him, however. James Barnes had emailed later, stating he wanted to come for a Sanctum tour, but that he didn’t want anyone else from the meeting to know.

The sorcerer closed his journal and turned to the pile of books he had brought home from Kamar-Taj. He picked up one entitled The Greek Gods: Secrets. He was hoping to find out more about which gods had relationships with which other gods or humans. 

Wouldn’t it be interesting if he found a drawing of Tony’s oldest ancestor with Asklepious?? 

Stephen heard his phone ringing. He closed his eyes and sighed. Nope. Not enough energy left in him to talk to Tony. He turned off his ringer and didn’t bother checking the voicemail when it notified him. Maybe tomorrow.

Maybe.


	12. Lost and Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony has really made a point of avoiding Stephen. He doesn’t want to hurt his wife, Pepper, and he doesn’t want to risk losing his strong friendship between himself and Stephen. But he’s finding it harder and harder to hide his confusion and possible feelings from anyone. 
> 
> Stephen is perplexed by Tony’s odd behaviour, but he also knows some of the life that Tony has led, so he is patient. A little miffed, but he chooses not to take it personally.
> 
> What happens when Tony asks Pepper to come to a psychologist session with him to discuss his self-discovery with his doctor? 
> 
> Will the same happen when Tony finally explains his absence and his feelings for Stephen?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Erm... I split a much earlier chapter into two chapters and moved everything up one. Also had to switch positions with the last 2 chapters as they were out of order!
> 
> Had some help with this chapter from folks that I must shout out!
> 
> Tumblr Names:  
@strangcrdoctor  
@yuliya-dosky
> 
> Thank you so much for your reading and knowledge. I’m stepping outside my comfort zone. 😃👍❤️

**** _🎵 If you, if you could return_  
_Don't let it burn 🎶_  
_Don't let it fade_  
_I'm sure I'm not being rude_  
_🎵** But it's just your attitude...**_

Stephen was at their cafe. Although he wasn’t sure if it was considered “_theirs_” anymore.

**_🎶 It's tearing me apart  
_** It's ruining every day  
For me... 🎵

The sorcerer was dressed less conspicuously lately, because he wanted to relax. It wasn’t very relaxing to feel people staring at him or hearing amused or concerned whispers around him. Today he wore a tunic and comfortable jeans. His long winter coat - with the _red lining_ \- was draped over the back of the couch he was sitting on. He had a laptop on his knees, and some very old books in a sturdy-looking leather bag next to him.

** _🎵 I swore I would be true  
And fellow, so did you... 🎶_ **

He’d given up trying to contact Tony. After leaving voicemails, a few text messages, and an email over the last month, he could take a hint. Then, a week ago, he’d seen that Tony had actually tried calling _him_. Of course when Stephen had called back the next day, he had to leave another voicemail, because Tony was apparently occupied. With _something_... Again. He had tried today, too, but again was immediately thrown to voicemail. 

_ **🎵 So why were you holding her hand?  
Is that the way we stand?🎵** _

He had left a voice message: _“Hello, Stark. This is Stephen attempting to return your call. I was beginning to think you were ghosting me. But something is going on inside that complicated mind of yours, isn’t it? I‘m glad you called on Monday, but here it is Saturday and this sorcerer is sad that we haven’t managed to sync. I really hope you’re okay. If you are, I am going to our cafe around 1pm this afternoon to jam little earphones in my head and read. It might be nice to catch up. Talk to you later!_

** _🎶 Were you lying all the time?  
Was it just a game to you? 🎶_ **

He was still looking up whatever he could on Asklepios, the god of healing, and his teacher, Kheiron, the centaur. He had wanted to share all of this with Tony, because the engineer would’ve been skeptical, at first, But with all the proof in the books, most of it could be verified. Tony would be totally entranced. He loved that look of wonder when it appeared on Tony’s face.

** _🎵 But I'm in so deep... 🎶_ **

Stephen had even gone to various ancestry websites to see how far back he could trace his descendants. He kept hitting dead ends, but the whole idea that he was somehow a descendant of Asklepios - the god of healing...??? _A god?!_

** _🎶 You know I'm such a fool for you... 🎵_ **

_Maybe it’s no big deal, _he mused._ Perhaps everyone is descended from the gods. If that was the case, I’m no special case..._

** _🎵 You've got me wrapped around your finger 🎶_ **

The sorcerer was rather preoccupied, deeply concentrating on his reading and recording sources and references. He heard someone clear his throat, but thought, well, that whomever it was just clearing his throat. People tended to have dry throats and catch cold in this kind of weather.

** _🎶 Do you have to let it linger?  
Do you have to 🎵_ **

Out of his peripheral vision, while he was staring down at his keyboard, he saw a pair of shoes come toward him and then halt. He didn’t turn his head, but glanced at the sneakers and then did a double-take as he recognized the footwear.

_ **Do you have to 🎵** _

“Can I buy you a coffee, Stephen?” asked a familiar voice. Stephen’s earbuds weren’t on very loud, so he heard the question very clearly over the lyrics from the 1993 song “_Linger_” by The Cranberries...

** _🎶 Do you have to let it linger? 🎵_ **

Stephen froze for a second, his eyes staring at his fingers in the keyboard. He slowly looked up at Tony, trying to keep emotions from his face. He didn’t take out the earbuds yet. “Hello, Mr. Stark,” said Stephen in a calm and neutral voice. “How have you been?”

** _🎶 Oh, I thought the world of you 🎵  
I thought nothing could go wrong... 🎶_ **

Tony, with his hands in his pockets, looked down at his feet, with a sheepish look on his face. “I... I want to apologize for suddenly disappearing. No explanation. And then we were playing phone tag.”

** _🎶 But I was wrong, I was wrong..._ **

“Hmmm,” hummed Stephen. He made no other sound as he sipped his tea; he just observed Tony. 

**_🎵 If you, if you could get by_  
** _Trying not to lie 🎶_  
_🎶 Things wouldn't be so confused_  
**_And I wouldn't feel so used..._ **🎵

“Listen, I um... I’ve been going through something... It’s completely weirded me out,” said Tony in a half-whisper. He looked off to the side, then at Stephen’s knees. Stephen was surprised that Tony’s voice sounded thick and shaky with uncertainty.

** _🎶 But you always really knew  
I just want to be with you 🎵_ **

“Are you okay?” asked Stephen, his expression softening. He finally removed the earbuds slowly. He could forgive something like that. “I wondered what had happened. Did you feel too uncomfortable to talk about it with me?” He distantly heard the music still coming from his earbuds...

** _🎵 And I'm in so deep..._ **

Stephen shut off the music so he could concentrate solely on Tony.

“I... Well... It’s, uh, nothing... Well, it _is_ sort of embarrassing. Ya, you know, potentially _life-altering,_” stammered the engineer. “It’s one of those things where if I tell you what’s on my mind, you might laugh at me, or get mad... Or maybe what I have to say will freak you out and you’ll never talk to me again,” Tony uttered in a low voice. He stood awkwardly before Stephen, in front of the couch.

“I doubt there’s anything that would make me stop being friends with you, Tony,” said Stephen. “Short of you blowing up the library in Kamar-Taj, maybe...”

Stephen could see the relief washing over Tony’s face. Tears had welled up, threatening to fall. Stephen handed Tony a napkin and motioned for him to sit. It looked like Tony was ready to just fall over, what with the darkness under his eyes, the barely-combed hair, and the 5 o’clock shadow on his jaw.

Tony looked at the couch, but shook his head. “I-I don’t know if I can sit and relax,” he stammered. “Too wound up. If I sit, my brain might go off.”

”Your brain might -?”

”My brain knows I’m kind of freaking out,” Tony explained. “If I sit, the adrenaline is pumping and my limbs wouldn’t be doing anything. So my heart would be pumping faster, my breathing would be faster, my blood flow would be going faster, I’m burning through sugar at a higher rate, my blood vessels have contracted... Everything in my body is screaming at me to run the fuck out of here... Or do jumping jacks, whatever. But I’m just trying to have a conversation...”

”Say no more, Tony,” empathized Stephen. “I, too, am familiar with what happens during a panic attack. I’m sorry this is happening to you. Please let me know if you want to get out of here.”

“You’re awesome, Stephen,” replied Tony, with a weak smile. “I do not deserve it. I feel like I need to be yelled at, maybe punched in the head a few times.” He was putting weight on one foot, then the other, and continuously repeating every thirty seconds or so.

Stephen huffed. “If I know you, my friend, you are already beating yourself up for some reason,” retorted the sorcerer. “I would rather not join in the fray. I would rather pin down the leg with which you’re using to kick your own ass! Tell me, if you can... What is it that’s keeping you captive in your own head? It seems the sooner you’re forthcoming, the faster you will feel better.”

Tony didn’t reply right away. Instead he looked up at the ceiling, and then squeezed his red eyes shut. His face contorted into anger and he snapped at the sorcerer. “Stephen, why _the_ _fuck_ are you being so _damn nice to me_?”

The sorcerer froze, and not only because of the unexpected outburst. His heart went out to Tony, because he could tell the engineer didn’t feel worthy of anyone’s affection right now. However, some of the patrons had heard parts of what Tony had said. If they hadn’t heard the whole thing, they likely heard the swearing, the enraged tone, or saw the engineer balling his fists and tensing his body. The cafe had become very still and quiet: several people froze with coffee cups partway up to or down from their lips, others stopped mid-bite of a pastry, or looked up sharply from their device or book, or stopped gesturing or talking. Everyone had become mannequins, except for the two men at the front of the store.

”Tony, look at me,” said Stephen gently, quietly so only Tony could hear, as he stood up. He saw the manager and a couple of servers looking over as though they were ready to jump into action. They were looking at Stephen with tense faces.

The magus put his arms around Tony’s shoulders in a protective hug, while at the same time giving a faint smile to the staff, a slow nod that the situation was under control, and a calm hand up to signal everything was fine. The frozen staff behind the counter immediately relaxed, exchanged looks and then continued on with serving customers. In turn, as though a switch had been turned back on, the customers also turned back to their conversations, meals, or cell phones.

”Tony, you remember back on Titan, when you caught me after I tumbled out of my meditation?” asked the sorcerer.

He felt Tony nod. He loosened his arms so he could see the engineer’s face clearly. ”Remember I said I had seen 14,000,605 possible futures?”

Tony reluctantly returned the former surgeon’s gaze. Stephen was still standing with his hands on Tony’s shoulders. The engineer felt a bit light-headed, but managed to reply in a shaky voice, “How could I forget?”

“In all those different possibilities, Tony,” Stephen expounded, “I saw you. I saw the person you _really_ are. I saw your heart and mind. I saw how we _failed_ to stop Thanos,” Tony stared in surprise, and the sorcerer saw fear taking over the surprise. 

“But I also saw the realities where we _won_,” said Stephen, his voice suddenly thick with emotion. “But I _still_ didn’t want it to be the truth. And please, believe me that the most I can say about it is that we _all_ still _lost_. It _couldn’t_ be the only possible scenario we had won against Thanos. So I kept looking. And in my search, I watched you, Tony, and was amazed at your lack of self-preservation,” he huffed. “I was amazed at your selflessness. Your love for humanity, especially when so much has gone wrong in your life. You wanted to protect everyone. _Everyone_, Tony. Except your damn _self_, of course. _Fuck!” _Stephen struggled with keeping his voice down, but his gritted teeth, furrowed brow, and welling tears showed Tony all the emotion the sorcerer had probably pushed down for more than a year.

”I... Stephen,” sputtered the engineer.

”I’m _not_ done, Tony,” said Stephen putting up a palm. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to get off my chest. It risks our friendship. But I realize now that some risks are worth taking.”

Stephen paused briefly, until Tony nodded for him to continue. The sorcerer saw a confused - hopeful? - look in the engineer’s eyes.

”Tony,” whispered Stephen, swallowing a lump in his throat. He closed in once again to encompass the engineer’s shoulders. He leaned in to Tony’s ear.

The engineer had become completely immobile when he had felt the sorcerer’s cheek brush his, felt some of the hair from Stephen’s forehead tickling against his temple, felt the breath on his ear.

“I saw _you_. In some lifetimes you were married to Pepper,” continued Stephen. “I saw you as a continued bachelor in others. I saw when you’d made the decision to adopt Peter, or Harley, or both. I saw some futures where Pepper, or Rhodey, or I never met you,” he said. The sorcerer took in a shaky breath, and a big plump tear drop fell from his eye. ”And I saw _us_. I saw us as _enemies_. I saw us as _associates_. We were also the best of _friends_. And... I-I saw... Some instances... _you and I._ As _more_ than just friends. In some of those lifetimes, Tony, we were together in a relationship. _Lovers._ A couple.”

The engineer felt Stephen’s arms tighten around him as if the sorcerer was afraid Tony would bolt out of the coffee shop. But the hold loosened again, and the magus backed off. Tony saw the vulnerability written all over Stephen’s face as he slouched back into the couch. This time Stephen was having a hard time looking at Tony. A look of regret or defeat came over the man sitting down, and Tony was still in shock about the revelations.

Tony had been holding his breath. And suddenly he realized he needed air. And then he felt the tears of - what? Relief?

_Yes, that’s how I feel, _thought Tony_. Utter amazement and relief._

_Too bad I can’t breathe..._

Tony swore under his breath, and bent over to try to get the blood back into his head.

“Stephen, could we get out of here?” Said Tony, suddenly looking all sorts of uncomfortable. “I feel... My legs are gonna go... I think I’m having another panic attack...”

That was all Stephen needed to hear. He took action. He pushed aside his horror at what he had just revealed to his friend, just like he’d put aside feelings if he had to do emergency surgery. He threw all of his belongings into his leather bag, grabbed Tony by the shoulder and led him out the doors of the cafe. Panic and regret were put aside to deal with later.

“I hope you don’t mind, Tony,” said Stephen as he guided his friend to the alley between the cafe and a small bookstore. “I’d rather not make a portal in public unless absolutely necessary.”

Stephen had coaxed the crimson “lining” out from his long coat so the red fabric could flex out to present the natural form of the Cloak of Levitation. “Levi, just in case, can you go to Tony, please?”

The cloak seemed to nod, providing a gentle pat on one of Stephen’s shaking hands as if to say, “No problem, hon.”

The cloak then clasped the engineer’s shoulders and provided a little extra buoyancy and a little pushing forward.

Tony nodded, still unable to speak, grasping his jacket at his chest, and taking long, deep breaths as they walked. “This is g-good,” he gasped. “When m‘ legs start to feel like wet *gasp* sp‘ghetti, I walk ‘n’ it distracts my brain. *intake of air* Same with th’ cold air. And that can bring my *a few deep breaths in* limbic system down a few notches.” *continued gasping*

“Tony, save your breath, _silly_!! Sanctum okay with you?” asked Stephen, also a bit out of breath from dragging Tony and supporting him. When Tony nodded, Stephen opened a portal to the study, near the fireplace. “After you.”

With a little help from Levi, Tony followed the warmth through the portal and, after the engineer had removed his jacket, he immediately took a seat on the couch close to the fireplace. Stephen hung up the coats on an antique coat rack nearby.

The Cloak of Levitation waved some of the bottom front hems out as if warming up some cold hands, and then turned around to, if looks weren’t deceiving, to warm up the rear-end. Then the outer-wear seemed satisfied to land snugly on Stephen’s shoulders.

“Tony, would you like a hot beverage, or some water?” asked Stephen, in an effort to distract the man. He had noticed the engineer’s body seemed to be shivering. “We have got chocolate and tea. Although water might be refreshing.”

“Hot chocolate would be great,” replied Tony, with a shaky voice. “I want to get these nervous jitters out of me - without as much caffeine as coffee. I know what coffee does to me if I’m already this ramped up.”

Tony had expected Stephen to disappear into a kitchen, but instead the sorcerer waved his hand over the top of the side table next to Tony. Immediately the smell of hot chocolate was in the air. After a heartbeat where Tony just froze, his mouth making a little “o” shape, he beamed up at Stephen and sighed contentedly. He inhaled deeply and more calmly and then exhaled. His hand soon dropped from clutching his chest, while the other picked up the hot chocolate.

“Thank you for getting us out of there so quickly,” said Tony. The relief in his voice was obvious. Stephen noticed Tony’s watery eyes, and also provided a box of Kleenex.

The sorcerer gathered up a blanket that was closer to the fireplace and put it across Tony’s lap. Stark then grabbed the fabric up to his chin and kicked the rest of the blanket so that it covered him right down to the floor.

One corner of the sorcerer’s mouth twitched upward as he felt warm affection for his friend hit him in the heart. And then the memory of what had just transpired in the coffee shop hit Stephen again, and trepidation dragged affectionate amusement right out of his mind and wiped the slight grin off his face.

“I am so, _so_ sorry if I caused that panic attack,” said Stephen. “I... I feel so bad.”

“No, don’t worry - or blame yourself,” comforted Tony. “This was brought on by... Something else.”

Stephen was still feeling the tightening muscles in his stomach and esophagus at the thought that he may have triggered Tony’s panic. He stood momentarily, grasping his hands, trying to massage the tension out of his fingers. 

“This. Blanky. Is. Sooooo warm,” groaned the engineer, snuggling into the fabric even more.

“I’m glad to see you’re feeling better,” said Stephen in a gentle voice. “Now you look like someone poured you on the couch.”

Tony barely responded, he made his head sag to the side and he stuck his tongue out as if to say, “I’m so done.”

Stephen finally sat down on the couch furthest from the fireplace, and wished _he_ felt such relaxation. It was good to have Tony around again, though. It felt like an empty space was filled in properly. It was like that nagging feeling that was forgetting something was suddenly gone. But the sorcerer felt so agitated. He was of two minds. On the one hand he felt much better now that he understood that the reason for Tony’s lack of communication was caused something Tony was going through. It meant the engineer wasn’t deliberately, or with ill intention, trying to avoid him. But on the other hand, Stephen was impatient for Tony’s thoughts.

But he knew. _One thing at a time. Let’s get you settled down and comfortable before I try to extrapolate a response from you, Tony, my love, _Stephen thought to himself.

“Well, _this_ is unusual,” teased Stephen. He tried to lighten the mood with a stab at humour. He looked at the watch on his wrist. “It’s been an entire two minutes. You haven’t budged. Not even fidgeting.” Stephen’s face finally betrayed a little bit of concern when Tony finally looked back with conflicting emotions washing over each other. “What is on your mind? I missed you. And... After what came spilling out of my mouth... Please, _say_ something.”

Tony was still smiling about the first comment. He blinked his long-lashed, brown eyes and looked tiredly at the sorcerer with half-closed eyelids. “I’m so sorry Stephen. It wasn’t fair to keep you in the dark. I guess I could have at least texted you to let you know I was dealing with something,” apologized Tony. He closed his eyes again and leaned back. “And I did think about you... A lot, actually, while I was hiding away. Only problem is, it’s hard to hide from your_self_...”

”Tell me about it,” Stephen huffed. “Even if it works for a while, the whole facade crumbles at some point and you’re suddenly staring at the glaring truth. And you feel so naked and exposed. But... There it is. In all it’s horrifying beauty. Being all _truthy_.”

The two were quite a pair, as neither would look at the other, other than furtive glances to the other’s hand on the couch, someone’s foot, the couch, a leg...

”I had to tell Pepper, first,” said Tony, finally, voice cracking. He grabbed a Kleenex. “I took her with me to a therapy session the day after I called you, hoping I could show her the truth about me - gently. And I was calling you to see if you would come with me to a separate session with my psychologist.”

”Dr. Peebles?” Stephen’s brow twitched in confusion. “You wanted me to accompany you to one of your appointments? Because...?”

”Oh, because I was afraid I’d somehow, as _usual_, fuck up what I was trying to say,” said Tony, clearly angry at himself again. “But everything still went sideways when I told Pepper what I felt I had to say.” 

Stephen’s head shot up to face the engineer when he heard the sudden hitch in his voice. ”Oh no. Tony, tell me you and Pepper are -“

”No, Stephen,” Tony sighed. He blew his nose. “Yeah, she didn’t like the naked truth. She wanted to put clothes on it, pretty it up, and maybe throw it back into... I dunno. A closet, I guess.” He began to laugh rather hysterically at his own really bad joke.

Stephen was somewhat startled about this. “I... I was so worried about you. If this ever happens again, please at least send me a... a pigeon, or an owl, or _something_!”

Tony gave him a lopsided grin when he opened up his tearful eyes again. He placed his thumb and middle finger on either temple, as he felt his sinuses starting to fill. Then dragged his fingers through his brown hair. ”I was trying to remain calm, for once,” he said, struggling to keep his features from twisting into grief. “But as soon as I explained my new... realizations, and my confusion, she _went off_! Like, she _lost_ it. It scared the shit out of me, because I never, ever envisioned she would lose control. She was _so_ angry.”

”Oh no,” murmured Stephen, biting his bottom lip.

”She just stood up and started screaming. Accusing me of things...Calling me horrible names... She was balling up paper and grabbing pens and packs of gum out of her purse and pelting me with them!” laughed Tony, at the absurdity of it all. “And when she ran out of things to throw at me, she started hitting me with her purse!” 

”Holy shit!” Tony could clearly hear the surprise in Stephen’s voice. “For her, that’s unprecedented...”

”Yeah, like your ‘hitherto undreamt of’ comment,” Tony smirked. “Dr. Peebles had explained as calmly as possible that she needed to get herself under control or she needed to leave. So she left.”

Stephen huffed at that. 

Tony felt Stephen’s hand tentatively on his shoulder, and the engineer flinched a little. He turned to see Stephen retract himself from the attempted touch and was alarmed how the sorcerer’s face suddenly tensed up and a teardrop flowed down his face when he squeezed his eyes shut in an effort to hide the perceived rejection.

”Stephen,” Tony said with some urgency. “No, my friend, don’t misinterpret me. I’m just so tense, I didn’t mean to flinch like that. And, you were brave enough to lay bare your soul to me. I’m not as brave as you. I lack your courage.”

Stephen turned to look at his friend, tilting his head to one side. “No, you’re wrong, Anthony Edward Stark,” he managed to say through his tears. “You, sir, are the bravest of souls in all my visions, in all those lifetimes I saw.”

“Well, I don’t know what to say to that. But there’s something I need to tell you, too. I’m not sure what to say, or how to say it,” said the engineer. “I’ve really wanted to talk to you for a long time... But I’m also kind of... “

“Nervous?”

“Terrified, actually,” confessed the engineer. “I’ve been having some... Really fucking _odd_ dreams lately. Let me start there.”

“Dreams?” Stephen’s eyebrow went up. “I’ve found out some things about myself through my dreams as well, lately.”

“Yeah? You’ve been having more of those precognitive dreams after you came to our house?” he looked at Stephen.

“I don’t know if that’s exactly how I’d describe them, but close enough,” replied the former surgeon, dabbing his cheeks with Kleenex. He tried to make light of things. “Maybe they’re mostly _post_-cognitive. No, that’s not quite the right description, either. At any rate, I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours,” said Stephen into his mug of tea, pulling himself together somewhat.

“Well... Here it goes... I’ve been discussing my dreams with my psychologist. Hrm. Let me give you this in the most general of terms, first,” said Tony. He rested his head on his hand, and was lost in thought for a moment. “Sometimes after you and I would visit, or sometimes after I visited my therapist, I’d have these dreams that I can probably describe as really awful... And yet, even though something scary or horrible is happening in the dreams, the good part is...” He looked Stephen in the eye when he said his last sentence. “The best part of these particular dreams is that there’s someone there with me who helps me get through the bad stuff. Someone who sticks up for me, or teaches me to help myself.”

Stephen was interested, but couldn’t figure out why Tony had turned such an obvious crimson. He shrugged, “So who are these friends? Rhodey and Banner, perhaps?”

Tony grinned shyly and shook his head slowly, “Nooooo...” he said. “Just one person!”

“Pepper, then,” reasoned Stephen. “I mean... Before she-“

“Noooo,” said Tony as he had a sip of his drink. “I haven’t known this person as long as my oldest friends or even my former wife.”

Once again Tony and Stephen were peeking over their mugs and looking each other in the eyes.

“Well, _who_, then?” prompted Stephen, becoming less patient. “Peter?”

Tony shook his head with a shy smile on his face. ”This sweet person has made some really big sacrifices, too. And not just for this one world. This person rarely thinks of himself, either, and sometimes cannot tell people what he knows because he’s protecting everyone from fucking everything up. And he wants to keep the world safe. He often looks after everyone but himself, _dammit!” _Tony’s eyes went so very soft. ”Someone who seems to love me?” He then bent his head and looked meaningfully at Stephen.

Stephen almost choked on his tea when he figured it out.

“Oh!” Stephen said, clearing his throat. “_Me_?! Really?!”

“Really,” said Tony. He watched Stephen’s surprised face bloom with redness to match the shade the engineer had been wearing not moments before. “And you’ll never guess in a million years who - or what - you’re defending me from.”

“In that case, please, don’t make me guess!” laughed Stephen, still flustered. “Apparently I’m a terrible guesser!”

Tony hesitated. “Here’s the part I’m reluctant to explain. Give me a moment...”

“Take all the time you need,” said Stephen, sitting back more easily into his spot on the couch. “You’re in a safe place. I’m your friend. There’s no pressure. I’ll just be reading this book until you’re ready.”

“Okay,” said Tony, taking a deep breath. His knees started bouncing a little. “I appreciate that.”

Stephen went back to his reading and tea. Or rather, he attempted to read. What was really going on in his head was he was going over and over the scene in the cafe. He had felt fear that he had lost his best friend. But the engineer was still beside him on the couch. The man could have left many times, but he was still here. And had Tony just asked, or implied, that the sorcerer was looking after him and _possibly_ loved him...? Did he mean loved him in the dreams? Or in real life?? It hadn’t really been addressed, confirmed or denied. And what kind of love? Friendship? Romantic? The magus felt his stomach doing all sorts of interesting things while he awaited what was to come.

Stephen could hear Tony fidgeting, tapping his finger on his mug, whispering to himself, rustling a bit, making hand gestures as if in discussion... Stephen let him have his space.

“Okay, Stephen,” said Tony after about twenty minutes. “I think I’ve finally got a way to spit this out.”

“Alright,” acknowledged Stephen, as he put down his book and faced Tony again. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“My therapist said that my dreams are more like painful memories,” explained the engineer. “They’re the kind of memories that, when you’re a kid, you forget them. Like, they’re hidden in your subconscious to protect you until you can handle the memories as an adult.”

“Ah, yes,” nodded Stephen. “Repression of trauma?”

“I never thought of these events as ‘trauma,’ exactly. But, you know? I think that in many of those instances that’s actually accurate,” replied Tony. “Because, I remember them like I sometimes remember my combat trauma.”

“Oh boy,” said Stephen, shaking his head with empathy. “Yeah, PTSD, or Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I’m sorry to hear we have that in common. But I guess some of it comes with the territory.”

“Yeah, but these are memories of bad stuff that happened when I was a _kid_!” sputtered Tony. “At least I can remember some parts of my flashbacks from combat with the Avengers - or against them - _in context_. But I don’t remember any of these particular events from my childhood until they show up in my dreams. Well... I guess technically they’re nightmares.”

“And what am_ I _doing in your nightmares, Tony?” asked Stephen with a very confused look on his face.

“Okay. Here’s where I feel... I don’t know... Afraid to tell you more details,” said Tony. “I swear, I didn’t have a clue what seemed unusual until I spoke to my therapist. All I know is these unusual feelings I have had recently made me feel uncomfortable - but good at the same time. It was so hard for me to figure out why on the one hand... I liked what I was feeling... But then it would hit me... Why am I having _these_ feelings around _this_ person... Uh, and by ‘person,’ of course, I mean _you_, Stephen.”

“Maybe don’t tell me what is happening in the dream yet. Maybe tell me why are you afraid to tell me?” asked Stephen. He was beginning to feel like he might understand what Tony was going through, but was patient and didn’t want to jump to conclusions.

Tony shook his head and laughed ruefully. “Reasons I’m afraid to tell you,” sighed Tony.

Stephen could see the engineer was, once again, getting all tightened up into a ball of tension. Tony pulled up his feet so he could hug his knees. He tapped his chin thoughtfully. He had made himself as small as possible on the couch. “First of all, according to my psychologist, my subconscious mind may or may not have picked up on something from you. That’s part of it. I don’t know if it’s true or false. I don’t want my questions to be perceived as accusation, or an insult, or anything negative. What I’m about to tell you is hard, because I also found out some... Interesting things about myself... And... I’m not sure about how I feel about it. I don’t know what to do about it. I’m not even sure if I’m _supposed_ to do anything about it!”

Stephen’s mind was racing, but only deeper into concern for Tony, and guardedly hopeful. Was Tony saying what he _thought_ the engineer was saying? His mind was a whir of gears and motion while he observed Tony’s obvious discomfort and frustration. “Tony, I see you really _want_ to tell me something, but that it’s hard to say. I see that it’s hard to say because you care about me, and you care about our relationship. Obviously you fear that you are... going to lose me? And I _assure_ you, that you, Tony, are very important to me. I would _never_ abandon you, especially when you’re vulnerable like now. Is any of this helping you?”

Tony nodded. “Very much!” Stephen was startled when Tony reached out momentarily and squeezed his hand gently. Stephen squeezed back and then Tony’s hand pulled back as he crossed his arms back over the top of his knees.

”May I ask, what did you mean when you said, according to your psychologist, you may have been subconsciously sensing something from me?” asked Stephen, cocking an eyebrow.

”I... _You_ may...” Tony rubbed his hands on his face. “I don’t know how to say it. It might not be true. And _then_ what would you think of me?”

“How about this?” offered Stephen, trying to be helpful, not showing an ounce of frustration. In fact, if anyone seemed to be showing signs of agitation, it was Tony. “Would it help to tell me the new information you have found out about yourself, or maybe give some details of the nightmares, first?

“Yeah! I think I can do that - about the nightmares, that ” said Tony. “Okay. So most of the time the nightmares have me at various ages, different times of my life...”

Stephen nodded when Tony looked at him, “Okay.”

”I would be doing something innocent, like hugging my Kindergarten buddy, or trying to help a boy my age, or just be doing little kid stuff, like dressing up like a lady,” the words rushed out of him. “But then somehow my dad was in the middle of it all, interpreting anything I did as being inappropriate... Or twisting it into something that wasn’t innocent anymore!” Stephen noticed the volume of Tony’s voice was beginning to rise as well and he was starting to talk a lot faster. “Sometimes he hit me. A lot. And it got worse as I grew up and his drinking got worse.”

”Tony,” soothed Stephen. He gently grasped Tony’s forearm, just like he had when they had first gone for coffee. “These memories resurfacing must make you feel horrible. You’re getting so agitated by this, I can tell. That's completely understandable.”

“Sorry, Stephen,” said Tony, in a much calmer tone. He breathed in through his mouth and out through his nose slowly. Then he laughed, “You know, when you touch me, and when you talk to me... It really helps center me. I already feel ten times better than before you put your hand on my arm.”

”Is this okay, Tony?” Stephen asked gently. “Do you want me to continue? Or shall I stop?”

Stephen was again surprised when Tony put his own hand over Stephen’s. “This is just fine, Stephen. I don’t want you to let me go. You saved me or helped me in my dreams, and you’re helping me spill my guts to you right now.”

The sorcerer looked at Tony’s face. Tony’s eyes were closed, and he seemed relaxed. Except for the furrow between his brows.

”Stephen, I feel a lot braver right now. So here it is. I think...” The engineer squeezed Stephen’s hand gently before speaking again. “Let’s just say that it’s very likely I’m on some sort of _non-heterosexual_ spectrum.” Tony huffed and opened his eyes as he said this and had turned to look at Dr. Strange. 

“Oh!” Stephen was looking forward with furrowed eyebrows and realization seemed to expand over his features. It was, _indeed_, what he thought Tony was going to tell him. “Wow.”

Tony noted Stephen still had not made an attempt to retrieve his hand or pull away.

”Wow,” Stephen repeated, his eyebrows now quite high up on his forehead. ”So... You came out to Pepper. And... now you’re coming out to _me_.”

He squeezed the engineer’s arm again and felt Tony slightly increase his hold before relaxing again.

”Tony,” said the sorcerer. “I am honoured that you came out to me. This is a big deal. I’m only sorry that Pepper probably traumatized you when you took such a risk. It makes complete sense why you felt so conflicted about telling me.”

“And there’s something else,” Tony said, his voice soft. “I... I _really_ like you. Like... I’ve been a bit... Confused about what I’ve been feeling, because it didn’t make sense to me at first. But then when I started having those dreams and spoke to my therapist, it all made _sense_.”

”Let me share with you,” smiled the sorcerer. “How much I can empathize with your situation. I had to go through what you’re going through when I was younger. I came out to my family,” explained Stephen. “My mother was okay with it - after a while. My father was disgusted and angry with me. And my brother and sister were... Passed away before I came out. So, I suppose the fact that they’d have no grandchildren... No traditional wedding... That may have been the main source of their anger. And that my father was afraid that anyone else would ‘find out.’ As if I were some sort of abomination.”

Stephen looked up from Tony’s arm and found those lovely obsidian-brown eyes gazing back at him. And couldn’t look away. For a moment the sorcerer felt the heat of Tony’s hands matched the heat in those eyes. And both of them were held, feasting on each other’s gaze for what seemed like a moment frozen in time.

“You know what?” said Tony, suddenly feeling a little lightheaded. “I like a staring contest. Especially with you, Stephen.”

”I... I...” stammered Stephen, swallowing nervously. He spoke softly and had to concentrate so he wouldn't lose the thread of this conversation. “I find it very... Very difficult to look away. Your eyes... hold me. I’m... locked.”

”Really?” Tony edged a little closer to the sorcerer. He searched Stephen’s face, watching those blue eyes, and then lingering on his high cheekbones, and then down to Stephen’s lips. “Well, I feel the same, Stephen.”

”Tony?” Stephen murmured. “Would it be inappropriate - that is, would you be comfortable with me moving closer to you?”

”Oh yes, that would be very welcome,” said Tony, entranced as he was that his voice was barely above a whisper. 

They gently sank into each other’s sides. Tony turned, bringing his knees up near Stephen’s chest, placing his socked feet on the couch, toes pointed toward the sorcerer. Stephen’s hand was still holding Tony’s arm; Tony still had his hand on Stephen’s.

“Tony, my heart is so glad you were finally able to tell me what was troubling you,” the sorcerer said fondly. “I have had feelings for you as well, for... a while now. But you were married. And I still feel badly that she left you that way. I mean, you both seemed so good for each other. But now it doesn’t _seem_ like she even gave you a chance. You need understanding and acceptance.” Stephen also brought up his feet so his knees were touching Tony’s, and so he could grasp Tony’s arm with his other hand. “I’m someone who can accept you for who you are. I’m not a person who wants you to be the way _I_ want you to be.”

“Thank you so much, Stephen. I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t sure about anything anymore. You have always been a rock. You were, and you still are the only stable thing I have in my life.”

The engineer placed his fingers on Stephen’s cheek, and then traced a route to Stephen’s beard, placing exploring fingers tentatively on Stephen’s lips. Stephen caressed Tony’s hand and tenderly kissed the two fingers touching his lips.

“I feel a bit drunk,” sighed Stephen.

”On what?” huffed Tony. “Tea??”

Stephen smiled and shook his head, “No. _You_, Tony,” he confessed. “You’re overpowering me.”

”But I’m not doing anything!” laughed Tony, touching his forehead to Stephen’s shoulder. 

“Being so close,” said the sorcerer, closing his eyes in some kind of blissful arousal. “I’ve only dreamed about this. This is... Intoxicating... I never in a million years...” Stephen placed his shaking hands on either side of Tony’s head. Tony saw the tears in Stephen’s eyes, and the wide pupils. “Never thought I’d be able to do this.”

Stephen was wishing, wishing, wishing he could kiss Tony. But something in the back of his mind made him stop. 

"What?" asked Tony, seeing Stephen frowning suddenly.

"I just remembered something," said the magus. "Remember when I came to see the two of you a couple of months ago?"

Tony sighed. There had been a moment, but he sensed it was gone. "How could I forget?"

"When I told you both that you would have a 'prominent role' in the defeat of Thanos," he continued, with obvious reluctance. He closed his eyes. "I might be wrong about this, Tony. But has Pepper been ill recently?"

"Not as far as I know," and it was Tony's turn to frown. "What is this about?"

"When Pepper reacted to what I said, did you notice anything... Interesting about what she did?"

"I don't even remember what I had for breakfast this morning," snorted Tony.

"She didn't tell you any... Life-changing news lately?"

"What the hell are you saying?" Tony snarked. "Can't you just tell me what you're thinking?"

Stephen pinched the bridge of his nose. Everything suddenly made a lot of sense. "Curse my eidetic memory," he moaned.


	13. Who Were You Expecting?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What To Expect When You’re Unsuspecting? Well, you, my readers, may be unsuspecting. *evil grin*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry I took so long. I just pretty much did a one-shot on this chapter this evening. I guess I was reluctant to do it because it's kind of a point of no return. *tents fingers*
> 
> Possible TRIGGER:  
FYI: there is a mention of miscarriage, but that's it. Just wanted to make sure you were properly informed.

It had been a week since Pepper had stormed out of Tony's psychologist appointment. A week to stew in her anger at Tony and her shame at her unparalleled reaction. Who had done all that swearing and name-calling and hysterical crying?? She never did that. She was the cool and the calm to Tony's jittery anxiety and disorganization. Tony acted on impulses, she was the one who planned things just _so_...

Who was that woman that had been hitting Tony with her purse? Who was it who had lost her mind when Tony started explaining about his self-discovery about his sexuality? 

_Me._

Pepper had just finished throwing up a few minutes ago, but now found she was ravenous and had ordered room service. She was staying at a hotel for now. She could afford it. At least at the moment. She had a great salary and benefits, but she worked for _that man_. Tony Stark. Time to look for a job somewhere else. Or maybe somewhere so deep into a different department or branch or subsidiary of Stark Industries that she could be away from him. She wasn't sure if there was anywhere far enough away from Tony that she could actually escape to on this planet. He'd probably hunt her down and demand - or beg - for an explanation.

Despite admitting to herself that she had made a complete ass of herself, she had every right to be thoroughly pissed off at her husband. Maybe ex-husband. 

"But what do I _do_?" she asked herself out loud.

No F.R.I.D.A.Y. to reply to her here. She had weeks of sick time and vacation. No expectations, no schedules, no anything.  _Let Tony take care of his own shit for once. Let him live with his own consequences for a change, _she thought, fuming to herself. And then she wondered what the hell she was going to do with herself for an indefinite amount of time that she was on vacation... 

Pepper answered the door and the young man brought in her breakfast on a cart. She thanked him and tipped him handsomely, and when the door was shut, she tucked in to her pancakes and fruit. She hardly ever ate pancakes for breakfast. Usually she subsisted on coffee, energy bars, protein drinks or anything else she could grab quickly and throw in her mouth between job duties. _Well, fuck this. I deserve a break from being a "good girl!"_ She frowned at her pancakes. Whipped cream on the side. She had a bowl of mixed berries and warmed them in her microwave. She had to switch from coffee to tea, because it was healthier. She wondered idly how many cups of tea she would need to replace one cup of strong coffee, then shook her head to dispel the thought. This was all for her, she could deal with the tea. _I never take breaks, I never get sick, I rarely take vacation, I don't go out, and what the hell for?? Pointless._

Her frown dissipated into a look of eager concentration as she poured the now juicy and warm blueberries and raspberries onto her pancakes. She haphazardly plopped a couple of large spoonfuls of whipped cream on top and then proceeded to pour the syrup.

_Once I get some food into myself, I'll be able to think of something_, she thought. It won't seem so bleak. I don't have to be scared. 

Tony and Pepper had been through so much, even before they were a couple. Afghanistan. The change-up from being a weapons industrialist to an inventor and medical developer... Obadiah Stane, for one. Tony's blood poisoning from his Arc Reactor. The attempt of the US Government to take control of the Iron Man suits. Whiplash... She gave an involuntary shudder when she thought of Mandarin and the injections of Extremis. Loki and the Mind Stone...  Oh, yeah, the Battle of New York...  Obviously Tony had at least tried not to continue as Iron Man, but she realized that was a part of him, and had conceded. Ultron... She felt a bit of bile when she recalled what had happened when Steve had injured Tony in Siberia. Then of course there was the time she and Tony were in the park and Dr. Strange had appeared out of some kind of sparkly hole in the middle of the air, and then they somehow ended up hurtling toward Titan... And then there was the Snap and then Tony had barely made it home... And then there was that damn time heist...  _Jesus, I think I'm still forgetting a few things..._

_And now the crazy asshole is having an identity crisis. Fuck. _

_T_hat was the last straw. She had handled all the other B.S. But this... Drama. She hadn't thought she might be addicted to drama, or attracted to it. But somehow anything to do with Tony Stark ended up bigger than life. About the size of his ego. _Which some have tried to measure and failed, because it's scientifically proven that there is no end to it. _

_Fuck._

She decided she was going to go on a travel holiday. She'd always wanted to go to Europe. There were a few distant family members that she had always meant to keep up communication or correspondence. _I wonder if I can look them up? Maybe they'd be okay with me staying with them for a bit at some point. _

Her laptop was on the bed next to her, so after she put a forkful of fluffy pancakes into her mouth, she opened it and did a search on the sites of Scotland, Ireland and Britain. Might as well start there, first. Then head across the English Channel and visit the rest. She had a sudden thought. If she prepared a letter to send to Human Resources, rather than go through Tony or F.R.I.D.A.Y. she could probably just sneak off. She didn't want to have anything to do with him, and she didn't feel comfortable leaving any information with Tony's AI. _Might as well tell him, if I'm going to tell F.R.I.D.A.Y._ She didn't think it was a good idea to tell any of the Avengers or anyone else from Stark Industries, for that matter. However, she'd better get a team of people to do her job. Sure she could do it all herself, but she figured rather than drag around a trainee around for months, trying to teach her or him the job of four people, best to get someone - or a _few_ someones - reliable at SI that actually knew the things she did because she was always in contact with them for daily or weekly routine. _Tony will have to have each specialist or department scheduled into their calendar, rather than have me do things for him. If he doesn't somehow find a way to completely fuck things up, he should be fine. Time he learned to be an adult, for Christ's sake._

She smiled for the first time in days. _These pancakes are really working!_

She added another blob of whipped cream and poured more syrup on her pancakes.

Another thought popped into her mind. She was going to need a driver while on holiday, and Happy wasn't being utilized nearly enough anymore. He had already mentioned to her a couple of times that he was bored, and he felt like Tony forgot about him most of time. He was thinking of going on some kind of a vacation, too. _Maybe he'd like a working vacation,_ she mused. M_aybe he and I could walk around, too. I mean, he's also a bodyguard. Then I could do things at night and not be worried about being alone. _

Everything seemed to be falling into place! And it felt like it was all falling apart just a week ago.

She'd cut her hair and dye it black, visit less touristy locations, and she would be completely out of the public eye. Or at least she hoped she could have that privacy. This was another reason she didn't want to tell Tony. He couldn't keep a secret to himself. She made a mental note to have someone tell F.R.I.D.A.Y. that under no circumstances should Tony attempt to contact her. She would never speak to him again if he did. She needed time to herself to think things over. She had more than just herself to worry about now.

She looked down at her abdomen and shoveled another forkful of pancakes into her mouth. _I'm eating for two, now, she thought. Doctor said I needed to put on more weight._ She patted her tummy affectionately and had already been feeling some fluttering and little movements. She wasn't showing yet, but maybe a few more weeks. And the reason she hadn't told Tony yet was because she wanted to wait until she was sure it was a viable pregnancy after the first trimester. The unspoken thing about pregnancies was that sometimes there could be a miscarriage before the first three months. _See what I do for you, Tony, you asshole? I didn't want to tell you so that if I lost the baby, you wouldn't have to be stressed out about it. I could just tell you if it happened. Because I was worried about how this news was going to affect you. I always worry about you, I always put you first, I put everything you need before my own needs. Well, this time it's going to be different. I'm putting myself first._

She smiled and picked up her cell phone.


	14. The Last Three Days Of The Work Week: WTF

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is happening in Tony’s world? He thought last week was bad when his wife had hit him upside the head with her purse.
> 
> Where is his wife? What happened to Happy? Who the heck is Penelope?? 
> 
> F.R.I.D.A.Y. to the rescue!

Tony was annoyed for several reasons. 

Firstly, He had been expecting Pepper to call him about work-related things, like signing papers, scheduling meetings, proposals, and so on. Pepper things. Like she usually did. Her job.

> She wasn’t.

Okay, on Monday he maybe didn’t notice... right away. Because she was _always_ hard to contact on a Monday. She always tried to get a majority of any meetings or phone conferences/VOIP calls out of the way in order to clear the rest of the week for, as she put it, “much more interesting, competent, and intelligent use of the company’s time and money.”

But at lunch on Tuesday he realized something was definitely amiss. He didn’t think about it too much, just figured maybe Pepper was doing something somewhere other than this location that was in some way work-related, like training or interviewing. Or something. He was still trying to call her but he kept getting her voicemail. He just hung up instead of leaving a message. She frequently checked her recent (and rarely, her missed) calls and when she saw he had called she would always call back or message him.

Or used to...

Secondly, when he had finally listened to her voicemail he realized she was “out of the office” and that “someone would be in contact” with him sometime this week. He was confused at that. Why would she get someone else to contact him? He didn’t want “someone else.” 

Not to mention that he couldn’t reach Happy, either. 

_What the fucksicle is going on around here?? _

On top of all of that, his phone was blowing up. His phone never crashed from being overwhelmed with messages before. 

“I am going to lose my mind, DUM-E,” he grumped. “Where the hell is Pepper!?”

DUM-E shook his head as if to say “I don’t know.”

He had been trying not to let his brain think about what happened when he had come out to Pepper about being bisexual.

He still had a tender spot on his skull where something small and hard had jabbed him in the head when she smashed her large purse over his head. Just before she had screamed at him and walked out.

_Maybe it was my balls..._

He had come home and she wasn’t there. He figured she needed to go somewhere to cool off and she’d contact him again when she felt better. Like usual.

He was finding it really difficult to sleep at night because he was constantly replaying what had happened when his mind was trying to rest. He wondered if he had said anything different from what he had at his psychologist’s office.  


And, of course, he played out _all_ these scenarios in his mind. Maybe if he had chosen different wording. Maybe it wasn’t what he said but how he said it... How did I sound? What if his psychologist had spoken instead of him? What if he had slowly set a premise and built up to the revelation? What if it had been at a different time or a different date or what if he’d worn a suit instead of jeans and a Tee? Should he have confirmed that Mars and Venus were aligned or if it had been the Chinese Year of the Dog? 

  
_Should I not have said anything about it at all? I mean, surely she’d want to know. _

This was a part of him that he didn’t know about before.He still loved her. He had wanted to always be with _her_. He had explained that just because he was bi, it didn’t mean he needed multiple romantic partners or anyone else. Those were the very first things he had told her at his appointment. He even made sure to speak to his psychologist several times before his revealing. The doc had warned him that she might not immediately accept the news. He had warned the engineer that Pepper might not respond in the way Tony had hoped.But he wanted to support the mogul, and Tony had felt it was important enough to say _something_. 

Neither he nor his doctor expected Pepper to completely lose it when she received the news.

Then there was _Stephen_. The engineer had been told that something needed to be cleared up between himself and Pepper. 

Stephen had been waiting for Tony to call him, but each time the engineer spoke with the sorcerer, Stephen would ask, “Were you able to reach Pepper?” And of course Tony would, in an increasingly annoyed voice, explain that he had been trying but she was impossible to reach. 

Then he’d ask Stephen out for coffee or a visit, and Stephen would repeat, also with an increasingly annoyed tone, “Well, I’d love to be with you, Tony. But not until you make contact Pepper.”

Tony had smacked his cell phone down hard on the couch for the umpteenth time today. He growled aloud. DUM-E and U had both paused from their cleanup duties to see if Tony needed anything. But no, he didn’t need anything from them. Other than blind loyalty, that is. The engineer had built these two so he wouldn’t expect anything less. Tony waved to them with false cheer, so they continued cleaning the lab. 

_I really hate this game, whatever the hell it is. _

The rules were that he had to call his ex and talk about _something_ and then, and only then, he could go out with Stephen. To pursue things. Maybe. 

_Stupid rules that don’t make sense. _

He had sent Pepper a text on the weekend, and then Monday after the big blowup the week before. He wasn’t sure what to do or say, so he apologized, although he wasn’t sure why he should be sorry for telling her who he was... 

OK. No, _that_ was a lie. He knew. From her perspective, it was because of all the shit he had put her through and now he had given her _more_ of his shit to deal with. But he was tired of saying sorry. He was tired of being the villain. He was abso-fucking-lutely exhausted about always being wrong. Guilt sucked. He had wanted to tentatively talk about it, and that was it. Let her get used to the idea. Wasn’t it better to tell her now instead of 20 years later?

Was it his fault that he hadn’t been in tune with his sexuality all these years? His family never talked about sex, let alone sexual identity. Back in those days, your family and friends and the majority of society stated the rules. 

If you were born male, that’s it, you were a man. Men were raised to be strong. That meant, in some households, if you were dad, you meted out physical or verbal consequences for discipline, you worked, you cut the meat, you drove the car, you were in charge. You had to be the strong one.

The man of the house had to be in control. Any teamwork with your wife meant you were “whipped.” Any affection or “girly” emotions were avoided. You were the boss of the household. The mighty protector that made the money that housed his family. You expected your wife to cook supper and keep the house clean, raise the kids. Boys played with trucks, girls played with dolls. Girls could sew, boys could play football. Men were rocks, women were possessions. 

Back in the day there was no such thing as “gay.” Bisexuality, transsexuality, pansexuality?!? The discovery that these things existed would have popped a vein in Howard’s very narrow, very tidy, very compartmentalized brain. He would’ve broken something because of his rigidness. No room to bend, no room for grey. Everything was just iron-clad black or white. 

Tony gave up on answering his phone.He was getting calls from various different departments, wanting to discuss the Pepper things.With him!

_What the hell? _

Now he had all these departments and different phone numbers and different names to remember. This was not smooth. Definitely _NOT_ seamless.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.? Darling?” he called out after his phone rang yet again after he had just hung up. 

“Yes, Boss?” was the amiable and respectful acknowledgement by his AI.

“_Please_, baby-girl. If I hear my phone ring, my email notifications ding, or any text messages bing, I am gonna have to throw something,” he explained. “Help me? Please?”

“Of course, Boss! I can have them leave a message and then go over them later with you in order ofpriority, relevance, and necessity later today,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. had suggested.

“That would be perfect, F.R.I.D.A.Y.,” said Tony, sighing with relief. “Thank you baby-girl!”

“Hey, boss, if you want, I can attempt to contact someone in SI and ask to speak to Pepper myself?” suggested F.R.I.D.A.Y. “Maybe she can relay something to me that I can relay to you?”

“Fine, F.R.I.D.A.Y.” Tony grabbed the remote again to continue restlessly changing the channels one at a time.“I mean, thanks baby-girl, I would appreciate that!” he amended.

He felt like he was going around and around like the channels were, eventually going from the highest numbered channel, then back to the first channel and then all the way to the end again. It was beginning to wear on him. Go to jail. Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200. He hadn’t gotten much of anything done in the last few days, but somehow he was exhausted. 

Working in his lab until all hours of the morning to deal with his stress probably wasn’t the smartest way to remedy his reeling thoughts. But that’s what he did when he couldn’t sleep or wanted to avoid paying attention to his anxieties or depression.If he couldn’t sleep, might as well do something useful instead of just lying in various positions in bed (or on a couch, floor, a workbench, or table) that would somehow get quickly uncomfortable no matter what invented yoga position was attempted, and no matter how many pillows - or how they were arranged. 

At around 2:12am that morning, he had tried sleeping in a fort made out of couch cushions and other furniture. He had a neat fort, but not much sleep.

While he sat on (in?) the couch fort, flipping channels, not even paying attention to the TV, he was trying to figure out why Stephen insisted on contacting Pepper before continuing... Whatever it was that he hoped to continue with Stephen. 

Why? Why had Stephen suddenly thrown a wrench into the gears just before they had kissed? Was the magus even going to kiss him? All the signs were there. Stephen’s eyes were definitely looking at Tony’s mouth; they were both leaning in toward each other; Stephen’s pupils were beautifully full wide and dark. Tony had noticed the blush creeping up the sorcerer’s ears and cheeks. Heard a catch in Stephen’s voice...

For fuck sakes he was getting semi-hard just thinking about it. Again.

_I could’ve sworn that was where we were going... What could be so important that it would suddenly make Stephen decide I absolutely have to speak to Pepper before a kiss?_

Tony couldn’t think of anything. His brain probably resembled the hamburger he’d recently ingested.Usually he enjoyed hamburgers, but the last few he’d eaten... Well, it was more like they were inhaled. You can’t taste anything that disappears into your stomach after being swallowed whole. 

Was it irony that he had been watching a National Geographic special about wolves? They sure knew how to put away food.

Tony had spent hours trying to work out what Stephen was hinting. He wasn’t sure what was more maddening. Was it that he couldn’t reach Pepper or that Stephen wouldn’t tell him why he had to reach Pepper?!

“Boss, I have someone who can explain what is going on,” piped up F.R.I.D.A.Y. “She says her name is Penelope Cooper, and she won’t tell me anything, she wants to speak to you directly.”

“Oookaaaay,” said Tony, silently looking up and making the sign of the cross. “Thanks! Patch her through, please, F.R.I.D.A.Y.” He longed for the days when things seemed so much simpler.

_**Before**_ Pepper had hit him with her purse. He wondered what she kept in there, because his skull still felt like she might have enough change to visit all the vlc machines at all the casinos in the entire state.

“Hello? Tony Stark here,” he greeted.

“Ah, Mr. Stark! Penelope here!” A professional-looking woman appeared on the video call. Tony was momentarily distracted by her multi-coloured grey hair tied back with a pin. “I’m glad I was able to connect with you! Pepper and I work closely together on several things. I’m one of the people who will be temporarily filling in for her on several tasks -“

“Hold on, Penelope. You know the thing you said about filling in?” he asked, surprise flicked across his face and intense curiosity coloured his voice. “Uh, why?” 

“Oh, sorry, Mr. Stark,” apologized Penelope. “I didn’t realize Pepper hadn’t let you know...” He noticed the woman turn a sickly pale and then, almost as suddenly, a dark pink shade covering her face. 

Tony grimaced. Of course. Pepper hadn’t mentioned it, clearly Penelope here had just realized, as awkwardly as possible, that all was not well in paradise. 

“Well, she did say she was traveling on an extended vacation,” babbled the professional woman, a bit nervously. “Does that ring any bells?”

The engineer held a hand to his ear and pretended to listen for said bells. “Nope. I hear no ringing of bells,” replied Tony. He really, really, really was trying not to sound irritable. “Did she mention where she was going on vacation?”

Penny’s mouth opened and shut a few times with nothing much but a stammering sort of squawking sound coming out. “I didn’t think it was my place to ask,” sputtered the woman. She turned a dark pink colour. “I mean I thought she probably told you. Because, you know. You two are, heh, married...? She didn’t say anything to me.”

“So, what you’re saying is that you don’t know where she went?” 

Penelope momentarily froze, then nodded.Then a chagrined grimace appeared across her freckled features and she began to shake her head. “Let me clarify,” she said squeezing her eyes shut to bring herself balance. “Yes,” she nodded. You are correct that, no,” she shook her head. “I don’t know where she went.” 

Tony let out a forlorn sigh.Penelope saw that he looked for all the world like he was going to cry.

“Do you know why she’s on vacation?” Tony asked.

He could practically hear the machinery chugging away inside the professional woman’s mind. He closed his eyes so he could roll his eyes under the cover of his eyelids. She looked like how he felt. With her nervous fidgeting and eyes blinking at him from behind large glasses, he was reminded of a deer in headlights.Except deer don’t usually look sympathetic at the same time. 

He squinted at the screen for a second. Were her ears actually smoking!?! Then he noticed she was holding a tray of coffees in each hand that she must have picked up before coming to work. The steam was wafting up very close to her face. 

He smiled ruefully. “Listen, Penelope... Hey, do you mind if I call you Penny?”

“Oh, sure, that’s fine, Mr. Stark,” she said with a smile. “I’m sorry to bring you these surprises. Usually Pepper is the most forthwith person I know! I don’t know why she’d forget to tell you - or me - about something like that!”

“Listen, Penny,” said Tony. “If Pepper is gone, and I’m talking to you, I take it you’re my only hope?”

“Ha! Star Wars: A New Hope!” she said, pointing at Tony from her screen. “Good one!”

Then she noticed Tony’s puzzled frown, and her smile faded a bit.

“Uh, sorry, sir, uh, Mr. Stark,” she said in a timid voice. “Just... I thought you made a movie reference. Never mind what I just said. I will get back to you with more information. In fact, I’ll be happy to send you your proposed scheduling in the next 10 minutes. Mrs. Stark has everything set up on Lotus and had it cross-referenced on an Excel Sheet. I’ll send you both. Also there will be three of us covering for Pepper. I’ll send the email with the details and a request a meeting time between the four of is, if that’s to your liking.”

Tony considered. Penny was trying to help. He hated meetings, but this one looked like a necessary evil. Besides, maybe one of the other employees had an idea of what was going on. He nodded, then shrugged.

“Penny, is there any possible way I can get a message to Pepper?”

“I’ll have an answer for you by the time we have our meeting, which is scheduled for tomorrow, at your earliest convenience, Mr. Stark,” she promised.“And what do you take in your coffee, Mr. Stark? I’ll bring you some.”

“I’ll take coffee any way I can get it,” he quipped. He chuckled at her confusion. “I mean, it’s coffee. Whatever you want in it is fine by me. I’ll keep it simple. Black, please.” 

“Very good, sir!” said Penny. I’ll see you tomorrow!” She waved her hand in an animated manner and then the call ended.

Tony wondered about her daily coffee intake. And also how many coffee runs she was sent on. She seemed a little frazzled. But who was he kidding? He was frazzled and everything was frazzle-coloured today. Maybe he was projecting. 

He texted a message to Stephen letting him know he found out Pepper had taken vacation. And that nobody seemed to know where she’d gone or why she’d gone on vacation.

*_Vacation_??* Stephen had responded. *_And without a word to anyone? Odd._*

*_And all kinds of awkward_.* Tony added. *_Have a meeting tomorrow so I’ll see what I can find out. Three women are subbing for Pepper.*_

There was a long pause. *_**3**_ ???* Stephen finally replied.

*_Yep. But I doubt that will be enough. Maybe we should place bets on when they decide to hire a 4th._* 

Another long pause before Stephen answered. *-

*_Stephenie, it would be nice to have a HINT about what you’re expecting Pepper to tell me._* Tony cajoled (as much as one could emote a cajole in a text).

*_Bad idea. This is something that should remain between spouses._I hope I’m wrong. We discussed this on the phone.*  
  


There was a pause, but Tony could see by the screen indicator that Stephen had started texting again. 

*_I’m not intentionally trying to piss you off. It’s just that there is SOMETHING more than we can see going on. Has to be. Maybe._*

*_Maybe try talking to Christine? As far as interacting with other humans, she always figures out what’s going on well before I do._*

*_That name sounds familiar, who was it again?* _Tony asked.

*_Christine is the doctor I used to work with. And almost had a relationship with. But as you know, at that time in my life, I was stupid. I’m slow, but I catch on. Eventually._*

Tony smirked. He and Stephen both.

*_If I agree to see her, you’re coming, too, right? You’re not the only one uncomfortable around other humans._*

*_She’d want me there, too. I‘ll tell her I have a people problem and she’d probably make the time.._*

*_Well, maybe we should do this at the Sanctum? Ya know... Privacy?_*

*_That’s a good idea. I’ll contact Christine and get back to you with a time_.*

There was another pause while Tony watched his indicator that Stephen was typing.

*_I DO want to tell you my suspicions about what’s going on, Tony. I’m just as annoyed by this situation as you are._*

*_Fine! I get to pick the movie!_* Tony retorted, making faces and mouthing what his fingers exaggeratedly texted. Then with a flourish he hit send and stuck out his tongue. He knew Stephen couldn’t read or see his frustration, but it made him feel a little better.

*_TTFN_!* sent Stephen.

Tah Tah For Now? Tah-Tah For Nuthin’, stupid head. He swore as he tossed his phone at a pile of pillows.

Stupid day.

With a weird hybrid feeling of apathy coupled with restlessness, he went picked up the snail mail his phone had notified him had arrived. Usually Happy would bring up the mail, or Pepper. But neither of them were around. 

_I better get some answers at that meeting tomorrow._

He opened the mailbox and was annoyed with the sheer volume of envelopes. He grabbed a small trolley to bring up the mail. 

He sat down with coffee on the couch and sorted mail, verbally as well as physically.

“Junk, junk, job application. Junk, a letter by a grade 5 class at River East Elementary School, junk, junk, junk,” he muttered. Every time he said “junk,” he threw the offending paper waste in the garbage. “Hmmm... shampoo sample, invitation to an art gallery, junk, junk, junk,” he intoned. “A politician? Junk. Junk. No, I don’t need hairplugs... yet. Aaaw, The Humane Society wants me to do an awareness ad? Hmmm, maybe. Wait...”

His eyes caught something with Pepper Potts-Stark on the envelope. He didn’t like that it was a large envelope, because that meant it was business and not personal mail. Like not a card or a letter...

He opened it and found two more envelopes. One was large like the original that he’d opened, and it was from a lawyer firm. His lawyers. 

_Uh-oh. _

He focused instead on the smaller envelope. Pepper had written in her neat handwriting: “Tony.”

No little scribbled hearts or happy faces... 

He took a deep breath and opened it. There was a single piece of lined paper.

> Dear Tony,
> 
> By now you may have noticed my absence. Since I haven’t taken vacation (or any other leave) for several years, I have taken it upon myself to have an extended leave of absence.
> 
> I’m sorry to leave you with this letter, but I’ve come to the realization that I need things simple and easy for a while. I always looked after you and your needs, and happily. It was my choice. I made your life look simple and easy. 
> 
> But due to recent events I had an epiphany that I need to be on my own for mental and physical health reasons. 
> 
> As a result, I do not wish to be contacted. Not by you and not by anyone that represents you or Stark Industries - aside from my own lawyers .
> 
> I do not want you hacking airport terminals, or government agencies regarding passports, searching for my credit card transactions, sending Vision after me, or any other invasion of privacy. And please do not use S.H.I.E.L.D. or SI resources or anyone else’s to hunt me down. 

> I want and need to be left alone. 
> 
> As it is, I took out what my lawyers ensure me is a perfectly reasonable amount of money, and transferred those funds to a new bank account. 
> 
> As a precaution, I have gotten a restraining order of sorts. And just in case this letter isn’t clear enough, my lawyers have kindly enclosed divorce papers for you to sign. I have signed all the ones concerning myself, the rest is for you to fill in. Please fill them out within the specified time period.
> 
> If you do really love me, you will comply with my wishes. Any further contact on your part will be considered a breach of the restraining order. 
> 
> Good luck with your life, Tony Stark.
> 
> \- Pepper -

> P.S. I have commandeered Happy Hogan to assist me on my travels. He could use a vacation, too, albeit a working one. You won’t have to worry about my safety. I didn’t think you’d mind, since he’s been under-utilized for over a year.

_ Wow.  _

Tony slid to the floor. He wasn’t sure how to feel about this. He had feelings for Stephen, yes. But this letter... And the divorce papers...Well that made it all so final.

_Real._

_Really real._

He felt numb. And was surprised he wasn’t having a panic attack.

He picked up the cell phone to contact Stephen.


	15. I Didn’t Forget You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have a Beta Reader!!! So awesome! Christine and I are working through this and I’ve made some decisions. I have to do a bit of an overhaul on previous chunks of the story so far... 
> 
> As soon as I’m done the editing/changes I will post two new chapters so you’re all notified. I really thank you for your patience, you lovely people! 
> 
> TTFN! ❤️

I’m taking out some major parts of the original story, which means I have to add some others... I will hopefully get things cleared away by the weekend! I’ll note/summarize all the changes in Chapter 1 notes and the notes on this Chapter so you can get a general idea or if you want to reread something, you’ll have an informed decision!

On top of this I’ve been setting up my art/drawing services on Patreon and Facebook, among other social media. My husband has a new concept for music so I’m helping with that as well!!! I’ve been super-busy! ❤️

Thanks again for your patience everyone!

**Author's Note:**

> **** Notes on "Coming Out To Yourself" as Bi-Sexual
> 
> As far as my Tony not necessarily realizing/accepting that he is bisexual in this story until much later in life, I have researched and found evidence to support that sometimes a person may repress or reject or be confused by their feelings until later in life.
> 
> In my story, Howard Stark was a homophobic (well, phobic of ANYTHING other than heterosexual, really): there are hints in my story as to how he perceived/reacted to his son that would cause any child to fear being true to themselves. 
> 
> "Real men" were not supposed to express any kind of emotion or action deemed to be "unmanly" back in Howard's day: compassion, sadness, affection - especially shown toward someone of the same sex was considered "weird." If a man needed help and affection and hugs, he was a momma's boy, he was weak. 
> 
> Howard also disapproved of males touching other males with hugs, or affection, or helping another male. Men weren't allowed to do that in Howard's lifetime, because, ew, they might "turn gay." Men were expected to be the boss of the family, to be providers, to provide discipline and punishment, etc. Women were supposed to look after the children, the house, and THEY were allowed to hug anyone, they were allowed to cry, and so on. 
> 
> If you were threatened with beatings or looked at with disgust for not conforming to your father's narrow view of "being manly," you probably would bury any thoughts, feelings, or behaviours that he perceived as "bad" so you wouldn't have to deal with his abuse. When you are a child, stuck in this type of situation, you can't do anything but survive, especially back then when society as a whole pretty much imagined strict rules about sexuality. 
> 
> Your parent is supposed to love you, so when your dad says "This is how you act like a man," you follow his lead. And if you don't do what he says and you get verbally and physically abused for your "sin," you are just going to begin to hate yourself. Because you're going to think you are unlovable and abhorrent like your parent says you are. You want love from your dad, and you need to survive your childhood somehow, so you're going to do what you can to get some love and be safe (which, sadly, isn't going to happen no matter what you do if he's anything like Howard Stark).
> 
> It's always such a shock to learn that, but then you realize at some point it's not YOU with the problem. It's your parent's problem. And your parent MADE it your problem. It's a mix of feeling horrible that your dad can't love you for some reason, but you also feel vindicated. You're free because you don't have to be what anyone else wants you to be, no matter how right they think they are. Not being you and trying to be someone else really just makes you feel empty and hollow. Because if someone likes you for NOT being you, but hates the person you really are, that person is not worthy of your friendship, let alone "qualified" to judge you.
> 
> What I personally know about any kind of abuse is that the mind is a wonderful thing. It hides things from you so you aren't harmed by it. And when you become an adult, these certain thoughts, memories, and feelings start to come back. 
> 
> My understanding is that Tony was in college when he was 14 and pressured constantly to work & get good grades, plus he was alcoholic, plus his parents both died when he was so young and fragile to begin with. So on top of all the problems of self-hatred, and being used to being used and abused, he's hit with a huge tsunami of grief too deal with. 
> 
> So in MY FanFic, Tony didn't realize that he was bi-sexual until it hit him full in the face. He would've felt hints of something, but he wouldn't be able to identify it easily, because his mind was formed as a child to believe that being heterosexual was the only choice. Plus being in a fog of alcohol/drugs for a long time, and then the loss of his parents (more specifically, the loss of his mother)… I think it's a reasonable argument that he repressed/suppressed/denied/despised his true feelings/self. 
> 
> But I digress... 
> 
> So that is why I'm not changing that part of my story. Not to mention that, if I did remove that part, I'd have about 2 pages rather than several chapters.
> 
> Links that support my premise:
> 
> https://www.reddit.com/r/bisexual/comments/5dexah/for_those_of_you_who_have_repressed_your_sexuality/  
https://www.quora.com/What-would-be-the-result-of-suppressed-homosexuality-or-bisexuality-in-females  
https://www.reddit.com/r/bisexual/comments/1t3fge/repressed_bisexuality_and_mental_health/  
https://www.mentalhelp.net/psychotherapy/repression/  
https://www.academia.edu/1526503/Repression_suppression_and_conscious_awareness  
https://www.psychforums.com/sexuality/topic175078.html  
https://www.marriage.com/advice/physical-intimacy/signs-of-sexual-repression/


End file.
